Introducing Muggle Harry
by canibehermione
Summary: When Harry's Hogwarts letter arrives, the Dursleys find a loophole to keep him from attending. Find out how his life is as a Muggle! Rated T for some domestic violence and later chapters. Please Read and Review! :D
1. The Letter and the Dursleys

**okay so this is my very first fanfiction story. Hope you like it!**

**p.s. all characters are from the mind of the wonderful and amazing J.K. Rowling**

"Ow!" cried the overly plump young boy. "Harry's hurting me again!"

Harry, his cousin, was a good 30 feet across the room glaring at his cousin as he made the accusation. He did not look like he was doing anything but looking at his cousin, but the Dursleys knew better. They knew what he was capable, and they did all they could to stop it.

"Potter!" cried Vernon as he strode across the room and dragged his nephew to the door of his 'room' below the stairs by the ear. SLAM! The broom cupboard shut and Vernon locked it with much gusto. "None of that funny business here! I will NOT tolerate you doing things to Dudley or any of us anymore!"

After seeing his cousin was properly disposed of, Dudley satisfyingly pounded upstairs, most likely to play his Xbox. Moments later, Petunia looked out the window and pointed at a small grey shape growing larger. "Is that…" Her voice trailed off as the blob formed into an owl and landed on the windowsill.

Vernon took the envelope out of its beak, trying to not get bitten. It read,

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

The letter went on to explain the items needed, but Vernon only cared about the sentence before the closing:

_We require your acceptance or decline by July 31._

"Bingo," muttered Vernon to himself. "Our way out of this bloody mess." He took a pen and paper and handed them to his wife to write,

_To whom it may concern,_

_We are proud you have chosen Harry for such a wonderful life. However, it is his (and our) wish that he stays here and go to a private school we have close by. Sorry for your inconvenience._

_Sincerely,_

_Vernon and Petunia Dursley_

_P.S. Please train your bloody bird to not bite. My finger will not stop bleeding._

He took the letter, sealed it in an envelope, and gave it to the bird, who then took off without a backwards glance.

**hope you liked it! Please read and review! The next chapter will be up soon! **

**:D**


	2. The Other Letter and What Came of It

**hey so I hope ya'll liked the first chapter. Sorry it wasn't that long. However, I only saw like one or two reviews! Please read and review this chapter! **

**P.S. All Characters you recognize are from the wonderful and amazing mind of J.K. Rowling. (Is she a dame? Just curious)**

The Other Letter

Once the owl was gone, Vernon sighed and landed back in his easy chair. _I am good_, he thought to himself.

"Vernon? Darling?" his wife called from the kitchen. "Darling, did you see this?"

She walked into the sitting room and held up a second envelope that had also been in the Hogwarts envelope. It had apparently fallen to the floor. The front said, "Open if you have denied acceptance." Vernon opened it and read,

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,_

_I hope your summer has been going quite well. I wish to inform you that if you deny your nephew the privilege of attending this fine establishment, you must follow all rules below._

_1. You will remove him from that awful broom cupboard and give him a real room. _

_2. You must not make him be your slave. He is a growing boy, not a manservant._

_3. You must treat him as your own son. Any privileges you offer to your precious son must also be offered to Harry._

_4. You must offer Harry a quality education. No matter the cost to you, this must happen. I will be more than happy to pay any debts you encounter._

_We will be checking up on you once in a while, and if Harry is not as he should be, there will be dire consequence. _

_Thank you for your time._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Vernon and Petunia shared a look. Now what were they to do?

"I guess we had better follow his orders," Petunia dryly said.

Vernon sauntered over to the broom cupboard under the stairs and reluctantly opened the door.

"Get your stuff out, Potter. You're moving into the spare bedroom."

Confused, Harry grabbed his few belongings and sets of clothes and walked out of the room he had slept in for his entire life. The mattress may have been lumpy and hard, and gave him backaches for most of his life, but it was his space. It was the one place he could go to escape the wrath of the Dursleys. What would happen now? He walked up the stairs behind his uncle and into his new bedroom. It was spacious. Well, anything would be spacious after living in a cupboard under some stairs.

Vernon remarked, "Well, boy, this is your new room. Get used to it."

He left the room leaving Harry by himself. The boy sat down on the bed and felt something hard under the covers. He lifted the comforter and found a remote control! This was something he had never been given the privilege to have. He couldn't see the television at first, but as he explored the room he found it in a dresser. Harry left the dresser open and turned on the television. He thought to himself, _Wow I can not believe I have my own room! And now my own television! Before, I would've been lucky to _watch_ the television with my uncle, aunt, and cousin. And now I have my own!_

Harry watched his newly found television for a while until he fell asleep. That night started a marathon of nights during which he had a recurring dream.

**OOO! Sorry to leave ya on such a cliffhanger, but the dream will be...well...just wait and see. The next chapter won't be published until I get some reviews! (like ten maybe? come on, I'm new haha) Hope you liked this chapter! :D**


	3. The First of Many Dreams

**So here it is! The Dream! :D this was one of my favorite chapters to write. I've included some AVPM/AVPS quotes throughout the story, so if you're a good finder (haha see what I did there? :P) then review and tell me where you find them! (sorry couldn't help myself)**

**P.S. Any familiar characters are from the astounding mind of J.K. Rowling. **

The Dream

His first night in the new room would be one Harry would never forget.

He tossed and turned and turned and tossed. This was the strangest, oddest dream he had ever had. The funny thing was, it seemed more real than the room around him….

It started in a bedroom. A baby's bedroom.

Harry, as a baby, was standing in a crib. He was frozen with shock as he watched his mother fall. A man, a tall man (because everyone is tall to a baby), in a hooded cloak turned toward him and raised an arm. The man shouted a few words in a language Harry had never heard before.

The words reminded Harry of a movie he had watched with his aunt and uncle. His mean aunt and uncle wouldn't let him watch the foreign film, because it became inappropriate. Their exact words were, "You guys are kids!"

Immediately after the man shouted the words, Harry saw the brightest flash he'd ever seen, and then everything went black.

He opened his eyes and saw a giant (all people are giants to babies) elderly man with the whitest longest hair he'd ever seen. He felt snug and warm and safe wrapped in a blanket laying the man's arms. He then felt the man setting him down on a doorstep. Harry became confused as he watched the man walk away. Why was he being abandoned? What was going on?

The door of the house opened, and Harry, now older, stepped through into a great castle. He marveled at the sight of this building. He had seen pictures of castles, on television and in the books he had sneaked peeks at while Uncle Vernon was away. The book was Uncle Vernon's favorite and had pictures of most of the famouse castles in all of Great Britain.

This castle, however, felt different. When he walked through the door, his feet seemed to know exactly where to lead him. He went through a maze of hallways until he saw the open door of a giant dining hall. Harry could not see the ceiling in this hall, and it was filled with long cafeteria style tables. Students of all ages had filed in and were seated along the tables. They apparently were waiting for some great performance.

Harry joined them and sat down at one of the tables in the middle of the hall. He did not know it, but the students were staring at him, trying to figure out who the boy was that just walked into the hall.

The man who had dropped Harry at the doorstep approached the podium. He had aged greatly, but still had the kindness Harry saw earlier.

"Quiet!" The man's voice rang out through the hall as if he had some kind of amplifying spell on it. The multitude of students immediately hushed.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the man's voice boomed. "I welcome you to Hogwarts. I welcome all of you to school. You should know that here at Hogwarts, we've got a hidden swimming pool. Welcome hotties, nerds, and tools. Now that I've got you here at Hogwarts, I'd like to go over a couple of rules." His speech carried on, spelling out the rules of the school.

When this lengthy introduction was finished, food appeared instantly in front of the students. He marveled at this sight, and turned to tell the red-haired boy sitting next to him.

Before he could get a word out, dinner was over. Harry felt himself being hustled out of the hall. He tried to stay behind, to talk to the old man, but he was unable to find him.

Harry, in waiting for this man, had lost the crowd of students. They seemed to be in a hurry. The dreamer asked himself, _Now where am I supposed to go?_ His feet, however, seemed to know exactly where he should go, even through this unfamiliar area.

As he walked through the gigantic castle, he heard voices saying, "Hello, Mr. Potter." "Glad you're here, Mr. Potter." Harry looked around and saw that there wasn't anyone near him. He was the only one around. The voices had come from the pictures adorning every square inch of the castle! This castle was getting more, for lack of a better word, magical by the second!

Harry continued walking through hallways and up stairs and through more hallways and up more stairs. He soon stood in front of a portrait of an extremely large lady in pink. He said a single word, causing her picture swung forward. This revealed a secret passageway. _I wonder where this leads..._

When he came out of the passageway, he was attacked by a red-haired girl, who looked similar to the boy he had sat next to in the hall. She led him to a room that was full of students who were all dressed alike.

Harry then noticed the red-haired boy walk toward him. The boy was followed by two other students around Harry's same age. One was a male with short brownish-black hair and the other was a female with brown bushy curly hair. The girl walked with him to the group of people.

The boy had made his way to the front of the group. He looked at Harry, and handed him a smooth stick. When Harry took it in his hand, he felt power. It was as if he was supposed to be here, with these people, at this very moment.

"It's time," the boy announced to the room.

**So the story is long from over. Don't worry. This is not the climax. Just a dream. Hope you've enjoyed the story so far! Please read and review and don't forget about the AVPM/AVPS quotes. I'm gonna try to incorporate them into my stories, because they're just that amazing. :D**


	4. Birthdays and Train Stations

**Hey! Did y'all not like the chapter with the dream? I didn't get any reviews. :(( You will definitely like this one, I know! So, enjoy! And, eat a Redvine.**

**P.S. I do not own any familiar characters. They all belong to the wonderful and amazingly gifted J.K. Rowling. Oh, and I'm not sure if there is a Dr. Clariton's School, so if there is, I am not trying to take an idea from someone else. **

Birthdays and Train Stations

Harry woke up from his restless dream at 6:00 a.m. _It felt as if I actually _know_ them. That was the strangest dream I'd ever had._ He layed in bed for another hour or so, trying to make sense of this dream, or at least trying to get a little bit more sleep.

_Pound. Pound. _There was a knock on his door, most likely his uncle.

"Are you up yet?" Vernon's voice boomed through the closed door.

"Vernon. Do not raise your voice at him. You know what the freak teacher said." Aunt Petunia tried to whisper, but her nephew could still make out what she was saying.

She then tried asking Harry the same thing as her husband but in a nicer way. "Harry, dear? We would like you to come downstairs real quick. We have a surprise for our birthday boy."

_Oh, yeah!_ Harry thought to himself. _I almost forgot today was my eleventh birthday!_

"I'm coming!" He called to his aunt and uncle as he jumped out of bed. As he heard the retreating footsteps, he pulled on his favorite Rolling Stones t-shirt (a hand-me-down from Dudley) and a pair of khaki shorts. He put his nightclothes in the hamper next to his closet and took one sweeping look across his bedroom.

_Wow. I still can't believe I have my own bedroom. This year's gonna be totally awesome!_

Harry walked down the stairs to a sight. His aunt and uncle-and even Dudley!-had dressed up in almost their finest clothes.

"Happy Birthday to you!" they started singing as soon as they saw the boy. "Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday dear Harry! Happy Birthday to you!"

Dudley looked uncomfortable as he tried to figure out exactly what was making his parents behave like this to his cousin. Just yesterday his dad had dragged him by the ear, which he had done many times before. But now, they were looking at Harry like he was their new pride and joy! _Heh, heh, _thought the plump boy. _I will make him pay. Just wait. _

"Harry, love!" Petunia cried at her nephew as she gave him the biggest bear hug ever. "Oh, I just want to hug and kiss you! But first, you have presents!" She led him to a pile of presents only half the size Dudley usually received. "It's not very many, but it'll have to do."

Harry sheepishly walked to the pile. "These are for me?"

Vernon stiffly nodded.

"Yes dear," answered Aunt Petunia as she walked to the stove to continue cooking bacon. She had started it when she went to go greet Harry as she came downstairs. She was trying to follow Dumbledore's orders, for fear of what he could do. She had heard stories about the wizarding world and the great wizard himself. She did not wish that on her own family.

Harry sat down and pulled a present to him. After he had opened it, he exclaimed, "Wow! Thanks for the Hot Wheels cars! Now I won't have to get Dudley's old, broken, half cars."

This continued for the remainder of gifts. He received video games, a gaming console that was one step under Dudley's, more t-shirts like the one he had on, a bunch of books, and something Dudley had made with his hands that looked like a cross between a birdhouse and a machete.

"Thanks for this, erm, well, thanks Dudley," Harry thanked his cousin.

Dudley only shrugged his shoulders, making Petunia, who had come back to the table with the presents, nudge him to say something. "We made it in Boy Scouts. I'm quitting that by the way," he added to his mom.

"What? We've paid so much for that and you're just going to waste the time and money spent? To do what? Play video game?"

"No, mom. It's just that I'm the oldest one in my troop. And I don't really like being in the woods. Also, I'm not in that good of shape for hiking. It would be best. My troop leader is okay with it."

"Alright. Harry, open this one." She pointed to the largest present, the last one left.

Harry tore the paper and opened the box flaps to reveal another box. He then unwrapped and opened the flaps on the second box to reveal a third. This continued for quite a few boxes until he was left with only one, small box.

He opened it, carefully, and pulled out a piece of paper. "Dr. Clariton's School for the Quality Upbringing of Boys," he read. "What's this?"

"You will be attending this school with Dudley," Petunia explained. She swatted Vernon's had, which had reached for the newly cooked bacon. "Not until we all eat." He gave her a look, which she refused, and continued. "We have searched all over Britain for the greatest boarding school, and this was it. You will be leaving from King's Cross Station September first, at exactly eleven-o'clock. The train boards at Platform eleven."

"Wow! Thank you!" Harry ran to hug his aunt and uncle, but stopped, because it was an unfamiliar thing. They had only been getting along for a day now.

"Dad!" Dudley shouted. "The bacon's gone cold!" He had picked up a piece of just cooked bacon and was about to eat it when he came to this revelation.

"What? I just touched it." He looked at Harry, and gave him a look that could met a polar ice cap. "POTT-"

"Now, Vernon," Petunia said warningly as she picked up a piece of bacon. "Dudley, this bacon is not cold! It has only been sitting here for a minute." She ate a piece of crispy, warm bacon. "Let's eat."

* * *

><p>"Ready to go?" Petunia called up the stairs to her son and nephew. It was time to leave for King's Cross Station.<p>

"Hang on, mom. I have to grab a few more things." A half-naked Dudley bounded down the stairs, and disappeared into the laundry room.

_Clunk, clunk, clunk._ Harry's trunk hit every stair on his way down.

"Got everything, hon?" his aunt asked. They, or at least she, had been acting very kind to Harry. He enjoyed the niceness much better than the constant yelling. Uncle Vernon, however, was on edge, and only rarely said anything directly to Harry.

"I think so," Harry replied. He thought for a moment, then remembered something. "I'll be right back."

He ran up the stairs and into his room. Harry walked over to his bookshelf, and grabbed a book about castles he had gotten for his birthday from it. As he left his room, he took one last look at it. "Well, I'll be seeing ya," he told the room as he shut his door and made his way back downstairs.

"DUDLEY! HURRY UP!" His aunt was literally screaming at his cousin. They were going to be late.

Harry and the Dursleys walked into the crowded King's Cross Station at exactly 10:49.

"Okay, boys. Remember all the rules we read you in the Dr. Clariton's handbook. They expect you to be on your best behavior, and so do we," Aunt Petunia reminded them as they walked past Platforms 5 and 6.

As they neared Platforms 7 and 8, Petunia got teary-eyed. "My boys. They grow up so fast," she sobbed, almost stopping.

"Mom! Stop embarrassing me!" cried Dudley as he started walking faster. "We're gonna be late!"

As the group passed by the column with the signs of platforms 9 and 10, Harry saw a little red-haired family. There were nine people standing next to the column, but Harry only noticed a few.

He locked eyes first with a small red-haired boy with an extremely freckled face, and then with an even smaller red-haired girl. When he looked at the latter, a warmth filled his body that he'd never known before. It caused him to pause just a little too long. Unbeknownst to him, the rest of the red-headed family were staring at him, trying to figure out why this Muggle looked so familiar.

"Harry!" screamed Vernon, a good 50 feet ahead now, and angry. Harry jogged to catch up to his fuming uncle and aunt.

**Hope you liked it! Did you know that Harry Potter can be used to cure any disease? Well, it can. So can Glee. And A Very Potter Musical. And A Very Potter Sequel. And Redvines. :D Don't forget to Read and Review! I want reviews :D Please.**


	5. Train Rides and Sortings

**Hey! Sorry about this being so late. I've had a hard time getting back to the computer. Anyways, hope you enjoy this one! And I would just like to say everyone is supermegafoxyawesomehot :D**

**P.S. All recognizable characters belong to the wonderful mind of Mrs. J.K. Rowling, who coincidentally does not have a middle name. :D**

The Other Boy Who Lived

"Bye Ronnie!" the red-haired boy's mother called as he boarded the train.

"I can't believe Mum still calls you that, little brother," one of his twin brothers said, as he playfully swatted Ron's shoulder.

"Yeah. It's good to get away from her for a while."

"Fred! George! Over here!" one of their friends shouted.

"See ya, _Ronnie_."

The twins laughed as they jogged off to join their friends.

Ron looked around. For the first time since he had arrived at King's Cross Station, he was alone. It had always been his job to look after Ginny, his younger sister. Since they were the two youngest, it was always expected. But now, he was free. It was scary. _Well, I had better get used to it, _Ron thought to himself.

The red-head walked along the train, looking in every compartment he passed for an empty seat. He came along one, put his suitcase above his seat, and sat down.

He sat in silence for a few minutes, and then pulled out some food he had packed. When he started eating, a bushy-haired first year girl arrived at the door.

She opened the door and asked, "Is there room for another first-year?"

"I guess," Ron answered, mouth full.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she offered. "And…you are…?"

"Ron Weasley," he said, mouth still full.

"Pleasure," she replied, coldly. She put her suitcase above her seat, grabbed a book, and sat down, clearly uninterested in this boy who seemed to be eating his weight in Redvines and Reese's Pieces.

Within thirty seconds, a small head was seen in the doorway.

"Trevor? Trevor?" the boy called. "Have you seen a toad? I seem to have lost my pet."

"No, sorry," Hermione replied, reading her book.

"Is that him?" Ron asked, having just swallowed. He pointed with his Redvine package to the shelf above his seat.

"Yes! Thank you so much!" The boy reached up, grabbed his toad, and sat down across from Ron. "Hi, I'm—"

"Oh, I know EXACTLY who you are. You're Neville Longbottom. You're the Other Boy Who Lived."

"The Other Boy Who Lived? I'm confused," Hermione piped up. She had been listening to the exchange between the two boys.

"You see, there was this one boy, the real Boy Who Lived," Ron explained to the Muggle-born. "He beat You-Know-Who when he was a baby, and was sent to live in the Muggle World with his stupid aunt and uncle. According to a Daily Prophet interview with Dumbledore, Harry's aunt and uncle sent word almost immediately after his Hogwarts letter arrived that Harry would not be attending Hogwarts. Ever. Apparently his Muggle aunt has had a grudge on Hogwarts ever since her sister was chosen and not her. The real Boy Who Lived is out there, somewhere, but for now we have Neville." Ron pointed at the shy, blackish-brown haired boy, who finished the story.

"There was a prophecy made years ago that told of a boy born at the end of July. He would have the power to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once and for all. The boy would also have lost his parents at a young age to Dark Magic and have to live with other family members. My parents were tortured until they went insane by Bellatrix Lestrange. Since I also have the qualifications of the Boy Who Lived, everyone has lately been calling me the Other Boy Who Lived. They have been hoping I can defeat You-Know-Who. Not sure when that's going to happen." He finished the story and sat back in his seat.

Almost immediately, Ron exclaimed, "We're here!" He had spotted the giant castle. He dashed to the window and smashed his face against it. "I've been looking forward to this day for a VERY long time!"

Ron, Hermione, and Neville grabbed their trunks and made their way to the door of the train.

When the train came to a stop, the kids filed off of it, some more excited than others. Ron, for instance, was practically sprinting to where there was already a crowd of first years. Hermione, however, was walking like she didn't have a care in the world. Neville was falling behind, as he was making sure his toad did not escape again.

"Firs' years, come wih' meh," a giant's voice boomed from the middle of the first year crowd. "Boats are this way."

The group followed the giant, Hagrid, and got in their boats to ride to the magnificent castle.

When they arrived at the dock, a lady with gray hair helped them out of the boats and took over Hagrid's job of leading the first years. She led them through the castle and stopped outside huge doors.

"Now, when you enter these doors, you will be sorted into four houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Wait here while I go inform Headmaster Dumbledore of your arrival." She walked through the doors, leaving the kids alone for a moment.

"Well look who we have here," a skinny blonde-haired boy stepped from the group and snarled. "Ha. Wow. It's Neville Longbottom, the Other Boy Who Lived," he sneered. "How are your parents doing, Neville? Mungo's treating them okay? Oh, and who is this next to you? Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley. Boy, I swear, this place has gone to the dogs."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Hermione spat at the arrogant boy.

"Oh, Weasley! Have to have a girl stand up for you there, eh? Well, Neville, you should learn how to tell who blood traitors are and instead hang with your superiors."

"I'd rather not," Neville replied. "And you should really learn to keep your mouth shut before—"

At this moment, the witch walked back out the doors. They all looked up at her as she flatly said, "Come in, first years."

They walked through the doors into the Great Hall. The new students were astounded by the enchanted ceiling that seemed to have no end, the endless tables, and the man at the front of the room who held an old hat.

When the new students were in front of this man, his voice rang out. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Headmaster Dumbledore." He continued his speech and then called the new students to him so they could be sorted.

"Now this year, we are going to sort a little differently. You will not be called in alphabetical order, but by random. Let's see here." Dumbledore looked into a book and called a name.

"Ron Weasley."

Ron shyly walked to Dumbledore, who placed the hat on his head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat exclaimed as it grazed the boy's head.

Ron, ecstatic, hopped from the stage and went to join his new house. _Thank you so much! If I had been sorted into Ravenclaw-that would've been okay-,Hufflepuff-oh I feel sorry for those finders-,but Slytherin? Oh, My Rowling, no! That would be the worst! My brothers would've given me hell for that my entire schooling career! I might've even been seriously kicked out of my family. Phew. I'm super glad to be in Gryffindor. Thank you Wizard God. _

He sat down next to his brothers, and watched as the sorting continued.

After a few moments, Hermione joined Ron at the Gryffindor table. Draco was called up soon after, and the hat was placed on his head.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat's voice rang throughout the Hall. Draco smugly walked to the Slytherin table.

Neville was called up next.

When Dumbledore said his name, everyone in the Hall started saying, "It's the Other Boy Who Lived!" "It's Neville!" "I can't believe I'm seeing him!"

"Hmm…where to put you," the hat murmured in Neville's ear. "You would make a good Slytherin. I can sense that."

"Please. I beg you. Please don't put me in Slytherin. Please don't put me in Slytherin."

"You don't want to be in Slytherin anymore? Then you better go with GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville happily walked over to the Gryffindor table, smiling as he heard, "Wow! Neville's in our house!" "This is awesome!" "We have Neville!" He was a celebrity.

**Hope you liked it! Just a little insight as to what would've gone on at Hogwarts if Harry wasn't there. Because, Hogwarts still is active. It doesn't stop just because Harry doesn't show up. So, please read and Review! :D and Enjoy your Redvines! :D Redvines-what the hell can't they do? :D (Sorry I just love AVPM and AVPS. If ya'll haven't seen them you should! :D)**


	6. Other Train Rides and New Friends

**Hey so I hope ya'll liked the last chapter! In this one, Harry sees the new school, and meets some new people. Hope you enjoy! :D **

Other Train Rides and New Friends

"Alright, now," Petunia said as she prepared to see her boys get on their train. "If you need anything just call us. We will miss you."

She knelt down to straighten Dudley's collar.

"Mum!" he cried as her tears fell on his shirt. "You're crying all over me! Go away!"

"Oh, my little Duddy-kins..." She enveloped her son into a monstrous motherly hug.

"Well, Potter," Vernon turned toward his nephew. "I'll be seeing you, then."

He stuck his hand out toward Harry, who shook it. It was a stiff handshake.

"I'll be seeing you," Harry replied to his uncle.

"Oh, Harry!" Petunia cried as she let go of Dudley and scooped her nephew up.

This was the most awkward position Harry had been in, since his hand was still on his uncle's. Vernon pulled away at the last minute though, before Harry's hand could literally be pulled off.

"I'll, ow, um, miss you." Harry's good-bye was muffled by his aunt's giant hug.

"ALL ABOARD!" came the call from the conductor.

"Well, we better go," Dudley said as he picked up his trunk and walked toward the train. Harry followed his cousin, a little frightened to be leaving and going to a new place.

The two found an empty apartment on the train. Dudley ran off, most likely hoping to find some new friends. Harry, however, laid his head against the seat back and thought about the past twenty-four hours and what it had stirred inside him.

Ever since seeing the red-haired family at King's Cross Station, Harry had been intent on finding them. If he found just one of them, that would suffice. There was just something about that family he knew was different. Harry had checked the train schedule and found out there were only two other trains leaving that day at the same time as the Dr. Clariton's train, and they were taking men and women to their workplaces. The boy had looked Harry's age, so he should've been on the train to Dr. Clariton's School for the Quality Upbringing of Boys. The strange thing was that Harry did not see any red-heads approaching the train. It was quite unusual.

Harry thought it might've just been a coincidence, when he read his Dr. Clariton's pamphlet. On the front of the pamplet, the words "Our School is Known for Our Quality Education, Apparently the school had a strict "no red-heads" policy, which Harry found absolutely absurd.

_There is no reason to discriminate based on hair color_, Harry thought. _It makes just as much sense as a monkey talking in English. I mean seriously. _He fell asleep with his pamphlet in his lap.

"Dr. Clariton's School for the Quality Upbringing of Boys, next stop," the commander's voice sounded over the intercom.

Harry woke from his deep sleep to find two boys staring at him. They were Dudley's friends, who had taken over the empty seats of his own once empty compartment.

"Guys!" Dudley burst into the compartment and saw a now-awake Harry. "Oh, you're awake now. I was beginning to wonder whether you had died, and then I realized I don't care." The massive oaf turned back to his friends. "Anyways, you've _got_ to see the school. It's _MASSIVE_!"

Dudley excitedly pointed out the window as their train rounded a corner to reveal a building that was, well, massive. It was made of stone and had three stories. The entire school was inside a forest of colossal trees, and the only way there was by train. It was one of those buildings that if you did not know where you were going, you'd most likely go right on by.

When the train came to a stop, Dudley and his friends, who were all slightly smaller than him but not by much, ran to the door, They were anxious to get off the train and go see what mischeif they could get into at this new school.

Harry, not knowing exactly what to do, followed the crowd of students who were also attempting to leave the train.

"Hold it!" a voice cried. "All fresh meat, follow me. If this is your first year, come right this way!"

At once, a crowd of new students swayed toward the voice. It's owner was a tall young man, probably 16 or 17. He was wearing the Dr. Clariton's uniform, which consisted of a black pair of pants, a white button-up shirt, a suit jacket with red and white trimming, and a black bowtie.

"Now," the young man spoke to the group of eleven year olds as he led them to the school. "Since this is your first day, you have not been given your uniform. Our school store manages the uniforms, and you will be called out of class sometime during this week to be measured and receive your uniform. You will receive three pairs of pants, four button-up shirts, three jackets (one with red trimming, one with white, and one with both red and white), and one bowtie. These must be worn during all hours of the school week, and on special occasions. My name is Chris Anderson and I am student body president and the president of the welcoming committee. I am also a peer counselor, an honor student, and a member of both our notorious orchestra and concert bands."

Harry had stopped listening to this boy mid-way, like many of the students, and he was wishing they would just hurry up.

Chris kept talking about the history of the school, the many clubs in the school, the sports teams in the school, yada yada. Finally, it seemed to Harry, they made it to the door of the school. Unfortunately, Chris kept talking. Harry glared at the older student.

"Now, these doors were built in 1905, and they are still standing today. They were designed by-OW!"

He broke off his speech when a rock fell on him. The student body president looked up toward where the rock had fallen from. He only saw a tree.

"As I was saying, they were-OW! WHAT IS GOING ON?"

This time the curious students followed the leader as he again looked above his head, and saw there was a squirrel laughing at him holding an acorn.

"You bloody creatures!" he threatened the animals. He opened the gigantic doors and shuffled the young students in.

Harry smiled silently to himself as he walked through the halls of his new school. _That was awesome. It was like someone knew I was getting bored and sent a message to those squirrels. It was just like when I was upset with Uncle Vernon and Dudley during my birthday. I guess I have a guardian angel or something. Thank you, whoever that was._

Since it was almost 8-o'clock at night when the train arrived, Chris hurriedly led the new students to the section of the school with dorm rooms.

"Now," _He's started practically every sentence the same_, Harry thought. "If you'll look in the folder we gave you at the beginning of the tour, you will find your room number and roommate."

Harry opened his folder and took out the correct sheet. He read,

_Harry Potter.  
><em>_Year One  
>Room 21B<br>Roommate: Logan Anderson_

_Great_, thought Harry. _I'm stuck with the pompous prat's younger brother. _

He walked down the hallway to room 21B and opened the door. There were two beds, two dressers, two desks, two closets, and a television. Neither bed was occupied, so Harry set his trunk down on the one on the right and started getting his clothes out.

The door opened, and in stepped a boy only slightly smaller than Dudley. "What?" he exclaimed when he saw Harry standing at one of the beds. "CHRIS!" he yelled disappearing down the hallway.

_Well, what'd I say_, Harry thought to himself as he finished packing. _This is gonna be one long year..._

* * *

><p>That night, Harry had the dream for the second time.<p>

When the dream was over this time, Harry sat up in bed with the boy's words still ringing in his head. He had to know the meaning. _What did the words mean? 'It's time?' Time for what?_ Harry's eyes searched for the clock, to see how much time he had left to decipher the meaning of this dream. _5:50. Okay, my class doesn't start until 8, so I need to get some sleep, but I wonder whether our encyclopedias have anything in them about this Hogwarts place. _He got out of his bed and looked in the box next to his closet. Aunt Petunia had bought him a set of encyclopedias for his going-away present. He was not sure why they had started treating him nice the day after his eleventh birthday, but he was grateful. Opening the encyclopedia box, Harry searched for the 'H' one. "Hogwarts…Hogwarts…" he mumbled to himself as he flipped the pages. "It's not here. I give up. I'm going to bed." Harry set the book back in the box and got back in his bed. He looked over at the sleeping form of his roommate and thought, _Why can't I have a NORMAL sleep? Like him?_

When Harry woke up for class, he found Logan gone._ Well, I guess he didn't really want a roommate. He _did _come back into the room muttering to himself about having a private room. Owell. Time for school._

**Well, hope you enjoyed it! I think I need some help as to which clubs and sports Harry should join. I am also planning to put him in band for a few years, so I'll need some help as to what instrument. The next chapter will be his first day of school, and then after that will be one chapter per year until the climax of the story. He will reunite with the Hogwartans (sp?) so should I include Hogwarts chapters also? Thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW! And please answer the questions! :D Thanks! You're totally awesome!**


	7. First Days and Trouble

**Here's the look at Harry's first day at Dr. Clariton's! Hope you like it! :D and it's super long! I feel accomplished haha.**

**P.S. Any and all characters recognizable belong to the astonishing mind of Joanne Rowling. Not mine. If they were my creations, they would not be nearly as amazing as they are now! :D**

First Days and Trouble

_How in the world did I get sent to the principal's office on the _first _day of school? _Harry thought to himself. He then remembered the contents of his first day.

After he had awaken to find his roommate was not in the room with him, Harry got ready for school in the community bathroom down the hall. He had walked in to take a shower and found the bathroom crowded with boys of all ages.

"Fresh meat don't get showers until we've had them!" one older boy yelled as he yanked one of the boys Harry had met while walking to his room. He remembered his name as Grant. The younger boy had one foot in the shower when the older boy pulled him away.

Harry watched this scene unfold as flashbacks of Uncle Vernon pulling him by his ear and Dudley using him as a punching bag resurfaced. _Didn't I read in the Dr. Clariton's pamphlet that "There is a zero-tolerance to bullying at this school"?_ Harry thought to himself. He looked around for an open shower, which did not come to his avail until twenty minutes later.

Before stepping into the shower, Harry glanced at his watch. _7:30. I'll have to rush if I want to make it to class on time. _

Fortunately, Harry was able to get all ready in fifteen minutes. The next step would be to locate his first class before he was late.

"Bloody hell I don't even have my schedule!" Harry exclaimed as he realized this. The time was now 7:48, and the minutes were ticking. "Where did they say to go to get a schedule?"

He remembered part of the droning speech Chris had given the night before. _"Schedules will be given out during the times of 7:15 until 7:55 in the main office. You will sign up for your electives at this time also. If you remember anything from this speech, remember DO NOT be late to your first class at Dr. Clariton's. Bad things happen to those who are." _When he said this last line, the student body president had glared at Harry as if he knew something would go wrong. Well, he was. And the something was bad.

Harry practically sprinted down the hallway to the front office. He was stopped by teachers saying, "Don't run at Dr. Clariton's!" and "Slow down boy! You'll hurt yourself!"

When Harry finally arrived at the main office, it was 7:53, and he was out of breath.  
>"Please," Harry wheezed. "can—" breath "I have—" breath "my schedule?" Harry was practically falling against the wooden counter as he asked this question.<p>

"Name," calmly replied the female secretary. There weren't many females at Dr. Clariton's. The two secretaries and a few teachers made up the only estrogen in the majorly testosterone-filled environment. "And you need to pick electives. Here's a list."

She set a piece of paper down by Harry, who picked it up. "Harry Potter. And, um, Band, Art, P.E., CBA…." His voice trailed off as he realized he'd chosen too many.

"Thank you. Here's your schedule." The secretary's young, smooth hand reached out with yet another piece of paper. She was in her mid-twenties, and her dark hair was caught in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. A few strands of hair had escaped and framed her face.

Harry couldn't help but notice her attractiveness, and found himself stammering as he said, "T-t-thanks." He took the paper and walked quickly out of the office. _I'll read this when I'm away from her. _The paper read:

_Schedule for: Harry J. Potter_

_Period 1: Beginner Science Teacher: Greene Room: 256_

_Period 2: Communications Teacher: Turner Room: 133_

_Period 3: Social Studies Teacher: Moses Room: 238_

_Period 4: Beginner English Teacher: Walker Room: 145_

_Period 5: Physical Ed. Teacher: Montgomery Room: Outside_

_Period 6: Mathematics Teacher: Watson Room: 210_

_Period 7: Beginner Art Teacher: Patel Room: A47_

_Period 8: Musical Instruct Teacher: Wood Room: BAND_

The secretary had stapled his schedule to another one, which turned out to be quite helpful for this new student.

_Class Times for First Year Students_

_Period 1~ 8:00-8:55_

_Period 2~ 9:00-9:55_

_Period 3~ 10:00-10:55_

_Period 4~ 11:00-11:55_

_Lunch~ 11:55-12:25_

_Period 5~ 12:30-1:25_

_Period 6~ 1:30-2:25_

_Period 7~ 2:30-3:25_

_Period 8~ 3:30-4:25_

Harry made a mental note to thank the secretary later, and then dashed off to his first class. It was on the second floor, so it took a while to reach. Harry burst into the classroom right as the bell rang.

"Thank you for joining us," a short, round man welcomed Harry. He had snow white hair and thick glasses. He was wearing a puke-green collared shirt tucked into his khaki pants.

Harry wasn't sure whether the teacher was being serious or sarcastic, so he replied, "You're welcome."

"I do not tolerate tardiness, young man," the teacher replied in a sharp manner. "Now, your name is…"

"H-h-harry Potter," Harry managed to squeak out. This teacher didn't like him for some reason.

"Yes. I should've known. Your cousin said you probably wouldn't be joining us for class because you have a certain 'condition,' was that the right word, Dudley?" Mr. Greene pointed at Harry's cousin, who was, unfortunately, in the same class. He sat smack in the middle of the room, surrounded by the boys he had met and befriended on the train.

Dudley gave Harry a smirk, and then turned to the teacher. "Yes, Mr. Greene. I apologize on account of my cousin. He can be kind of—" Dudley glared at Harry once more. "Different." With that, Dudley smugly turned back to his friends and their discussion of how to best befriend some of the older, more mischievous boys. Well, the boys weren't so much mischievous as they were bullies.

"Mr. Potter," Mr. Greene turned to face Harry, who was still standing in the doorway. "Your seat is right here." He pointed to a desk in the front row, right next to the teacher's desk. "I'm told I should keep an eye on you." As he said this he glanced at Dudley, who looked up as Harry walked to his assigned seat.

Harry removed his backpack and sat down.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Mr. Greene continued. "Seeing as it is the first day of school, and I am not feeling too well right now, I will generously excuse this little incident. If it happens again, though, beware. There will be dire consequences." The teacher turned to address the class. "AHEM! Class, please turn to the first page in your textbook and begin reading chapter one, which is entitled, 'What is Science?'"

The rest of the class period went swimmingly, and Harry gleefully jumped from his seat when the bell rang. He made it to his communications class on time, and was pleased to find that Dudley was not present in this class. Harry did see that Logan was in this class, so he went to sit by his roommate. _Maybe we could try to be friends. I haven't even said a word to him. _

"Hi, Logan," Harry offered. "I don't believe I had the chance to introduce myself to you last night."

He stuck his hand out, which Logan looked at like it was a festering sore and stunk like two-week old raw fish.

"Alright, then." Harry left his roommate's desk and went to find an open seat, far away from his light brown head full of pompous, pretentious jerkness. _Haha, _thought Harry. _My inner self comes up with the coolest descriptions of people. _He smiled at this thought as he found Grant was in this class. _He seems friendly._ Harry walked over to the boy and sat down.

"Hi," Grant said to the newcomer. "I'm Grant Galvaston." **(A/N: Oh how I want to type 'Gustin' as his last name :P)**

"Oh, I remember you!" he replied as he sat down. "I walked by you on the way to our dorms last night. I'm Harry Potter. I also saw you this morning in the bathroom. You got yanked out of the shower by one of the upperclassmen!"

"Yeah, well, my brothers go here also, and my parents are alum, and they've all said that's normal. The upperclassmen treat us youngsters as dirt. We're amoebas on fleas on rats to them. We're scum and the only way they'll view us as anything else is if we do something amazing or if we age five years in the next two minutes." He finished this off with a laugh and took his notebook out of his bag.

"Wow, that's crazy. Oh, is that our teacher? What was his name again..." Harry's voice trailed off as he looked at his schedule and saw the teacher was Mr. Turner.

"Hello, class," Mr. Turner approached the chalkboard and started writing his name. He was a tall, burly man with long brown hair and was wearing a black Beatles shirt with torn-up blue jeans. He turned to the class and asked, "Does anyone know what is wrong with my outfit today?"

Five people raised their hands, but Mr. Turner called on Grant, who had not. "You there, mister..."

"Galvaston, sir. My name is Grant Galvaston. And your outfit is fine, if you were attending a rock concert, or lounging at home. But if you were to be attending an interview, or going to the opera, your outfit would not be appropriate."

"Very good, Mr. Galvaston."

They talked about interviews until the bell. Harry asked Grant where he was going for his next class, and was pleased to find out it was the same as Harry.

The two new friends walked down the crowded hall to Mr. Moses's room. When they went through the doorway, a paper football hit Harry right in the face.

"Score!" yelled Dudley. "Two points!" He happily made his way to the front of the room. As he did, he punched Harry in the arm, and tripped him. "How's your day been going, my wonderful cousin?" His sarcasm and sneer could be felt a mile away.

Harry got up from the floor, and went to sit by Grant. "I hate my cousin!" Harry exclaimed. "He makes me so mad! I'M IN A RAGE!" Harry was practically yelling these words, and he could feel his heart pound as if he had just finished running.

"I know how you feel," Grant replied calmly. "My brothers are always picking on me. Mum says it's their signs of showing love, but I don't think that's the case."

At that moment, Logan walked in, and then their teacher. Logan looked around the room, and spotting Harry, sat in the seat farthest away from him.

"Isn't that your roommate?" Grant asked. Harry had told him about his awful roommate experience.

"Yes, unfortunately. Can my day get any worse?" Little did he know, he had spoken too soon.

"Class," Mr. Moses started. "Please come retrieve a textbook."

As Harry approached the books, he couldn't help but notice Mr. Moses's attire. He was wearing a pink and blue striped shirt with dark trousers and dress shoes. Atop his head was a dark brown toupee, which was extremely noticeable.

Suddenly, Harry was tripped again by Dudley.

"Look where you're going, stupid." Dudley laughed as he walked back to his seat.

Harry was the maddest he'd ever been. When he had gotten a book and walked back to his seat, he was pelted by pencil pieces. How the teacher didn't see was beyond belief. Harry glared at the teacher and then looked down at his open textbook.

Five seconds later, Harry heard the sniggers of his classmates. One small, strange boy with a blond bowl cut and glasses piped up.

"Sir," he began. "your hair is, well...blue."

The teacher ran to the mirror in the corner of his classroom and then looked back to his students. Harry had looked up to see what the commotion was about.

"You," Mr. Moses directed towards Harry. "You did this. I've heard about you. Harry Potter, right?"

Harry, now scared out of his mind, looked at his teacher. "Y-y-yes. That's me. But I-"

"NO! You will not talk, Mr. Potter, but you will go to the office. NOW! You can explain to Headmaster Ritcher what you have done, and why you have turned my _HAIR BLUE_!"

Harry, silently, stood up and walked back to the place he'd been a little over two hours ago.

He did not return for any of the rest of his classes, and the headmaster almost expelled him right then and there. Harry did not know how he had turned the teacher's hair blue. He was confused, and even cried a little.

**Hey! So hope y'all like the first day of Harry's new school! (well, part of the first day) I'm thinking about making another chapter about later in his first year at Dr. Clariton's, so tell me if you want another first year chapter! :D Yes, I meant to put in all the references, and if you can find them I might find you some Redvines! Or a cute Hufflepuff who's not sparkly now. Anyways, thanks for reading and please review! :D**


	8. Remembralls and Stones

**HEY! So I know this is late, but better late than never, right? Well, anyways, this chapter is about Hogwarts, and, mainly, Neville. I'll try to not make this turn into "Neville Longbottom and the (insert end of Harry Potter Book Here)" but some of the scenes are similar. This one is twice as long as the previous ones, something I'm happy about. Enjoy! :D**

**P.S. I do not own any characters from Harry Potter. If I did, I would love to own a 22-year-old Matthew Lewis, or a 26-year-old James Phelps. But that's just my fantasies. Anyways, the Harry Potter series comes from the amazing talented totally awesome mind of J.K. Rowling! **

**Enough of my rambling. Here's the good stuff! :D**

Remembralls and Stones

Neville's first year at Hogwarts was anything but normal. He had made friends with Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and some other Gryffindors, and was still called "The Other Boy Who Lived." It was a name he hated, as he had gotten it out of forfeit. His Gran had sent him a Remembrall, which he used frequently. Halfway through his first year, he realized his Remembrall didn't seem to be working correctly. He was told every day he had forgotten something, even when he had triple checked his book bag. He remembered the day he fixed this.

* * *

><p>Neville had been pacing the Gryffindor common room floor.<p>

When Hermione walked in from studying at the library, she heard him muttering, "I've forgotten something…it won't tell me…I wish it would tell me…why won't it tell me…"

"What's wrong, Neville?" a concerned Hermione asked her friend.

"I-i-it's my Remembrall," he stammered. "It says I've forgotten something, but I can't figure out what I've forgotten. Can you help me, _please_?"

_He looks like a little puppy dog when he pleads like that_, Hermione thought.

"Alright, Neville. I've got an idea."

Neville placed his Remembrall in her outstretched hand, and she recited a spell she had read about in _Spells to Remember: A Guide to Your Own Remembrall_. The Remembrall glowed green, then yellow, and then red.

"Here you go, Neville," she said as she handed it back to him. "When you see it glow red, hold it up to your ear. A voice will tell you what you've forgotten."

"Thank you so much!" he exclaimed as he enveloped his friend in a hug. "You're a life saver!"

"Oh, no problem," she replied. "Just happy to help. Oi! Neville! Your Remembrall—it's red!"

She frantically pointed at his bewitched ball.

"Wow! Let's try this." Neville held the Remembrall to his ear and listened. A voice, sounding very much like Professor Snape's, rang in his head.

"You blubbering fool have forgotten how to properly make friends. What a waste of a person."

At the sound of this accusation, Neville had a flashback fly through his mind.

* * *

><p>"Hermione, <em>DUCK!<em>" came a call from inside the bathroom.

Neville had passed the bathroom looking for the two Gryffindors who hadn't made it back to the common room. Percy had been leading them back to the common room after Professor Quirrell interrupted their Halloween feast. Neville had spotted Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall, but did not see them when they reached the Fat Lady. Dean and Seamus had agreed to search for them also, but the three had split up somewhere back in the fifth and fourth floors.

"Ron?" he called, standing outside the door.

"Neville? Bloody hell what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you two, of course."

"Well, stop looking and come in here and help us! This troll is—_OW_!" A loud crash sounded in the bathroom.

Neville cautiously opened the door, and saw a troll about to pummel Ron with its club.

"Oi! Shut the door! Don't just stand there like an idiot!" Ron called as he braced the blow.

He closed the door, but with a little too much force. At the sound of the closing _thud_, the troll changed its course.

"Uh…uh…" Neville whimpered as the troll started toward him.

"Neville!" cried Hermione from underneath a sink.

_Where has she been this whole time?_ Neville thought to himself.

"Use your wand! Distract him! You're a wizard, for Merlin's sake!"

Neville tried to think of any spells that would help him. _Alohomora? No, that opens doors. Stupid idiot. Expelliarmus? No, a troll doesn't have a wand. I. Am. A. Stupid. Idiot. Who. Is. Fixing. To. Die. From. A. Stupid. Troll. _He stood there whimpering as the troll advanced. It was nearly to him, and its club was raised. It came closer, and closer. Neville could see the pus on its legs. He braced himself for the blow—

"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" cried Ron with all his might. He pointed his wand at the troll's club.

It hung in mid-air. The troll stupidly looked at it, probably thinking, "Why is my club in the air like that? Why is it coming at—" Ron had released the spell, causing the club to hit the troll. The troll fell face first to the ground, clearly unconscious. Ron smiled to himself, knowing he had just saved the three of them.

"RON!" Hermione exclaimed as she came out from under the sink. She grabbed Ron in a tight hug, which lasted less than one second. She then remembered who she was hugging, and stepped back. They looked at each other awkwardly, then remembered Neville was in the room.

"Neville," Ron began. "Thanks for distracting him, mate. You saved our lives."

"No problem," Neville answered sheepishly. "We should probably get back to the common room. I'm sure Percy is having a cow."

"Percy is a cow. And a fat, ugly, stupid, bossy, know-it-all prat."

"Now, Ron," Hermione interjected firmly as they left the bathroom. "He's your brother."

"And who are you, my mom? I don't need another person telling me how to treat that no good son of a—"

But he could not say what Percy was the son of, because a red head with a pair of pompous glasses appeared around the corner.

"Where have you two been? I'd sent Neville, Dean, and Seamus out to find you and—oh, hi there Neville. I see you've found them. Thank you." He reached his hand out to Neville, who shook it.

"You're welcome."

"Now, Ron, Hermione, did you two go looking for that troll?"

"Yes, but—"

"There will be no 'buts' Ron. Professor Dumbledore had clearly told all the students that there is no need to go looking for the troll, that he would take care of it."

"But he doesn't know—"

"What doesn't he know, Mister Longbottom? Dumbledore knows everything. In fact, here he comes now."

Professor Dumbledore came into view, along with Professors Snape, McGonagell, and Quirrell.

"Hello, Mister Weasley. Have you found our two rogues?"

"Yes, Headmaster. They were looking for the troll! Apparently, if Neville hadn't've found them, they'd be dead by now."

"Ah, yes. Mister Longbottom. Well, young Mister Weasley, Miss Granger, remember this. The best friends are not those who go get help for you, but who stay and fight alongside."  
>He looked at the three first years, who stood terrified as if they were about to be expelled.<p>

"Now, Percy, please escort these three to their common room. I'm sure they've had enough fun for one night."

"Yes, Headmaster. Come along, children."

When they arrived back at the common room, Neville turned to Ron and Hermione.

"So, does this make us, like, _friends_ or something?"

They exchanged a look. Yes, this boy was The Other Boy Who Lived, but he had not shown any signs of greatness. He was clumsy, chubby, uncoordinated, awkward, and not that great at school work. But, he was willing to help them.

"Sure, Neville," answered Hermione. "We're friends."

"Come on, friend," Ron offered. "Let's go play wizard chess. I have a set upstairs."

* * *

><p>Neville took the Remembrall away from his ear.<p>

"Did you hear that, Hermione?"

"Hear what? Oh, my gosh, did it tell you something?"

"Yeah, it did."

"Wait. I need to look something up." She ran to her dorm room, and emerged with a giant book. "Hmm…" She flipped through it, looking for the right page. "Ah, here it is! _The Remembrall Voice Spell is only heard by the presentee _(that's you) _of said Remembrall. The Voice is one the presentee knows, but doesn't always like to hear._ Whose voice did you hear?"

"Professor Snape."

"Oh, wow. At least we know the Remembrall Voice Spell works. Say, Neville, have you heard of Nicholas Flamel?" She asked the last question eagerly.

"No, I haven't. Is he a famous wizard or something?"

"Yeah. I've been searching for him for days now. I have a project on him due soon. Oh well. Thanks anyways."

"No, thank you. You've saved my life with the Remembrall Voice Spell. I owe you one."

"Yes, you do. Well, I'm off to bed."

The two left the common room.

The next few days for Neville were surprisingly normal. He remembered things better, he had made a few more friends, and he had fallen into a seemingly normal (well, normal for a wizard) routine. But one day, that all changed.

Neville was sitting in the common room, editing his Potions essay, when he heard Hermione rush in yelling, "I'VE FOUND IT! I'VE FOUND IT!"

He, and the rest of the people in the common room, turned to look at her. They were either a) interested in what she had to say, or b) (in Percy's case) trying to tell her to shut up.

"Oh, haha," an embarrassed Hermione, clutching a rather large book, said to her fellow Gryffindors. "Too loud. Sorry." She sat down next to Ron and began discussing something.

Neville, ever the curious type, rolled his essay up and went to the couch. "What did you find?"

"Nothing," Hermione replied curtly.

Ron elbowed her, and pointed forcefully at Neville.

"Alright, fine." Hermione motioned for Neville to sit down. "You can help us. Do you remember when I asked you about Nicholas Flamel?"

"Yes, what about him?"

"Well," Hermione said happily. "I've found him in this book." She held up the ginormous book. "Where was it…" She flipped the pages frantically. "Ah! Here! '_Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!_'"

"The what?" Neville and Ron both asked at the same time.

"Honestly, don't you two read? '_The Sorcerer's Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._'"

"I'm honestly confused," Neville piped up. "Why are you looking up Nicholas Flamel and the Sorcerer's Stone?"

"Well, if we tell you, you have to keep it a secret."

"Alright, well tell me."

Hermione explained about how she and Ron had heard of the Stone and how they discovered Fluffy. When they finished, Neville was distraught.

"You mean to say, that you are trying to keep a stone to make people immortal away from Snape because you think he's trying to give it to Vol-You-Know-Who?"

"Exactly," chorused Ron and Hermione.

"You're bloody mental! You could die! What good is it for you?"

"Well, Neville," Ron replied. "We're only trying to save the fate of the world."

"Yeah, we are trying to keep the man whose followers practically _killed _your _parents_ from coming back!"

"That's the _dumbest_ thing I've ever heard! I would only-well actually I'd _never do that_!"

"Neville, we've told you what we know. Just think about it. We could use your help."

"Well, I'm going to bed. You two are absurd." He stood up to leave and backed straight into Ron's older twin brothers.

"Hello, there, Neville," they said together.

"S-s-sorry, Fred, George," Neville stammered.

"It's alright," Fred assured.

"Don't worry," George added. "Ron, Hermione." He nodded with each name.

"That's one big book you have there." Fred, smiling, was acknowledging Hermione's book.

Feeling the redness rise in her face again, Hermione looked up as she answered. "It's for a school project." She quickly turned back to her book.

George gave his brother a look as he spoke to Neville. "Say, Neville, Forge and I have something we'd like to show you."

"Oh, yes, yes," Fred chimed in. "Let us show you."

"Alright."

Neville followed the two pranksters down the hall to a deserted classroom. In the middle of the classroom, there was a giant mirror.

"What's that?" Neville asked the third years.

"It's called the Mirror of Erised," Fred answered.

"We found it a few weeks back," George added. "Thought you might want to see it."

Neville walked up to the mirror. It was a large, old mirror. There were words across the top. Neville read out loud, "'_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi_.' What the _heck _does that mean?"

"We're not sure, but come, look. The mirror seems enchanted, but all we ever see are each other, happy, standing side by side."

The twins stood aside so Neville could have the full mirror to himself. He saw his parents standing by him, smiling, and he was surrounded by many dozen family and friends, two of whom were Ron and Hermione.

"What, does this mirror show the future or something?" asked Neville.

"No, young men," a booming voice sounded in the classroom. Professor Dumbledore had entered. "I see you, like many others yourself, have found the Mirror of Erised. Fred, George, did you lead young Mister Longbottom in here?"

"Yes, headmaster," they replied together, faces downcast.

"Do not shy away from me. I know many have wished to view its powers. What have you two seen?"

"Just each other—" answered Fred.

"Standing side by side—" added George.

"Smiling," they finished together.

"Well, the Mirror of Erised, boys, shows the looker's deepest desires. You two are best friends, right? The greatest thing you could ever do would be to see each other happy. Neville, son, what did you see?"

"I saw my parents alive, and a bunch of family and friends, all smiling."

"You wish nothing but for them to be alive, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"That, my dear boy, is why you have seen them."

"And you, Headmaster? What have you seen?"

"Me? I see myself holding a thick pair of wooly socks. Come; let's get you three to bed."

When Neville was lying in bed, he couldn't help but remember what Dumbledore had said. Did he lie, or were his feet just _that _cold?

The next night, Hermione and Ron were acting very odd. They would not look at him, and they kept fidgeting. He decided to confront them about their behavior.

"Why are you two acting so weird?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, trying to figure out something to say.

"Wait—are you—no! You can't! You're going to look for the stone! I should go get Dumbledore right now!"

"Neville! No! You can't!" Hermione exclaimed. "Please, just come help us!"

"You'll get us in trouble! It'll be just like the troll, except more dangerous and I'm pretty sure Dumbledore won't be too happy with you wandering around again and—"

"NEVILLE! JUST SHUT IT!" Ron bellowed. He sounded freakishly like his brother, with the amount of power in his voice. "Listen to me. First, you are our friend, like it or not. Next, We trusted you with the information about Flamel, information you said you'd keep secret. Lastly, you can either a) go up to bed and forget any of this ever happened or b) go help us save Hogwarts from a stupid idiot! And so help me, I will hex you into oblivion if you do anything to stop us!"

"Alright, alright. Calm down."

Neville stood there arguing with himself about what he was going to do.

Finally, after what seemed like forever (but was only about a minute or two), Neville made up his mind. "I'll go with you. But if _anything _happens, I'm leaving."

Ron opened his mouth to object, but Hermione put her hand up.

"That will be fine. Thanks, Neville." She looked at Ron, asking him to thank Neville also.

"Yeah, thanks dude," Ron muttered.

The three left, and walked toward the third floor corridor. Neville was fidgeting the entire time. During four different instances, Ron had to tell him to stop squirming, or the cloak of invisibility they had found (well they had been given, but that'll be explained later) would slip off and reveal all three of them. They reached the door with Fluffy and opened it. Harp music was being played.

"I guess Snape's already been here," Ron said, worried.

"Well, we need to get past this trapdoor," Hermione said.

"No dur, Sherlock," Neville replied.

"Who is Sherlock?" asked Ron.

"He's a muggle detective who—Wait, Neville, how do _you_ know about Sherlock?"

"I kinda read one of your books. It was funny."

"I would be mad if they weren't such amazing books. Plus you were reading." Hermione smiled.

"Hey, guys," Ron interjected. "The trapdoor. Let's go."

They opened the door and clambered through it.

_Plop._ They fell onto something that felt like a giant plant.

"Uh, guys?" asked Ron.

He was being enveloped by the tentacles of the plant.

"Yeah?" Hermione and Neville both said.

"What is this stuff?"

The tentacles grew tighter and tighter around him, and were beginning to envelop Hermione and Neville.

"I've read about it. Um—" Hermione started.

"Devil's Snare."

"What?" Hermione, surprised, asked Neville.

"It's Devil's Snare. I just read something about it, literally a few hours ago. It hates sunlight I think."

"Wow! Thanks Neville! _Incendio_!" Hermione yelled the spell at the plant, just in time.

The plant had almost suffocated Ron. The three, newly freed from the Devil's Snare, jumped out of the plant.

"There!" Hermione pointed at a door. "We go there next!"

The trio walked through the door and found some flying creatures circling the room.

"What are they?" asked Neville.

"They look like…no…" Hermione started. "Are they…_flying keys_?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed Ron. "And look here, there are brooms for us to catch one! I guess we're supposed to use one to open the door over there." He pointed at the door.

At the sound of the word 'brooms,' Neville remembered something that had happened to him earlier in the school year.

* * *

><p>He was in the flying class with the other Gryffindor first years and the Slytherin first years. Madam Hooch was explaining to them how to properly fly.<p>

"Step up to your brooms, hold out your hand, and say up. Say it firmly, now."

Somehow Neville, unlike most of the other students, had already gotten his broom in his hand. However, his broom seemed to have a mind of its own. He was rising off the ground before the other students had even gotten their broom to their hand.

"AH!" Neville cried. "AH!" He kicked frantically, hoping to somehow make the broom go back down. It did not work. "Madam Hooch!" he cried at their teacher. "Help!"

Madam Hooch ran inside to get the only person she knew who could help him. "There's always one," she muttered to herself.

At this time, Neville's broomstick was behaving very strangely. He would fly to the left, and then change directions at the drop of a hat. It was terrifying for Neville, but hilarious for some of the Slytherins, such as Draco Malfoy.

"Hey," Ron exclaimed. "He looks like a Snitch!"

Hermione shot him a look.

"Hey, I'm not saying that's a good thing. Only making an observation."

"Hey, Longbottom," Malfoy jeered. "Missing something?"

Neville, very carefully, turned his head to see what the Slytherin was holding out. "That's my Remembrall! But how—" His voice trailed off as he remembered feeling it slip when he was kicking earlier.

"Won't your Grammy be mad if her wittle baby gwandson came home wifout his Wemembrall?" Malfoy sneered in a baby voice. "Go catch it." He threw the Remembrall upward.

Neville watched it hit the side of the castle, and then ricochet toward him. He braced himself for the stinging of the Remembrall, but it only barely hit him. When he felt the contact, Neville instinctively held his hands up to his chest and caught the Remembrall. Scared out of his wits, but excited at what he had just done, Neville stayed frozen on the spot. His broom, however, resumed its earlier crazy antics. He felt as if he was on one of those, what are they called, rollercoaster rides that Hermione had told him about.

Madam Hooch came running back onto the grounds with a fifth year in tow. "Wood, please rescue this boy. He needs a keeper's guidance."

"Yes, ma'am," Wood answered. He mounted a broom and sped up to Neville. "Neville, right?"

"Y-y-yeah," Neville stammered. "C-c-can you h-h-help me?" His broom was still acting up.

"Neville, listen carefully. Calm down. You cannot be freaking out on a broom that is also freaking out. Don't worry, I'll stay here with you."

Neville tried to calm down, and successfully did after a few minutes. "Okay, I'm ready. What now?"

"Relax. Just relax."

The broom had stopped acting weird, which made this a lot easier. The broom slowly made its way back down to the ground. Wood followed.

"Neville!" "Oh, my gosh, Neville! You're okay!" "I was so worried!"

These were the types of things the Gryffindors said to Neville as they attacked him with hugs when he touched down.

"Hey, Neville," Wood called as he prepared to leave.

"Y-y-yeah?" Neville was still in shock.

"Any time you need something, come find me."

"Thanks."

"And Neville?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd make a good Quidditch player if you had the right training."

* * *

><p>Neville looked around the room with the flying keys. "Are we supposed to be looking for some specific sort of key?"<p>

"Well," Hermione replied. "I see the door is kind of old-fashioned and the keyhole is big. So look for a big, brass old-fashioned key. It probably has been tortured with recently, so it will be easy to spot."

"Easy, here?" Ron retorted. "Yeah, right."

The three looked for the key. They found a few that they thought could've, but none of them seemed like the right one.

"Is it that one?" Neville pointed to a key over on the side, away from all the other ones. It looked as if it were hiding. The wing was bent a little, also.

"Yes!" exclaimed Hermione. "Neville, can you fly? I remember how it was at the beginning of the year, what with Madam Hooch's class and all."

"I-i-i guess," Neville stammered, nervously.

The three grabbed the broomsticks in the corner and mounted them. Hermione did not look happy to be riding a broom. She didn't like brooms.

"Alright," Hermione began. "I'll swoop down on it from the top, Neville, you go up from the bottom, and Ron, you pin it against the wall."

They got into positions, ready to go.

"3..2..1…GO!"

Their plan was put into action, and Ron, very carefully but fast, pinned the struggling key against the wall. He took the key over to the door and forced it in. Neville and Hermione heard a _click_ and then saw Ron open the door.

"Alright," Ron said decidedly. "One step closer."

They walked through the door and found two more challenges, one being the chess challenge. Somehow or another, Neville made it through.

"It is your job to stop Snape now," Hermione said matter-of-factly, as she bent over an unconscious Ron. "I've got to get him to safety."

"Come on Hermione, please," Neville pleaded. He did not want to go alone. Heck, he didn't even want to come in the first place.

"Fine then," Hermione answered. "Just give me a minute." She took out her wand, pointed at Ron, and recited a spell. Ron coughed and then woke up.

"Her-her-hermione?" Ron spluttered.

"Hello, Ron. You okay there?"

"I feel…uhn…" Ron fell back, clearly entering unconsciousness again.

"Please tell me you're not going to stay with him. I need your help Hermione!"

"No, Neville you don't _need _my help. But I guess I'll come with you. Ron will be okay." She set a spell around Ron to keep him from becoming more injured than he already was. "Let's go."

The two walked through the door and came to a hallway. Through this hallway was a large room, with a man standing in the middle.

"That's the Mirror of Erised!" Neville exclaimed.

"The _what_?" Hermione asked.

"The Mirror of Erised. Professor Dumbledore told me about it. It's supposed to show your deepest desires."

"Oh. Okay."

The two walked down toward the mirror, and the man, who turned around.

"Professor Quirrell?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Yes," the Professor replied, facing the two students. "It is I. I have been searching for the stone."

"Let me see him. I know he's there."

"Who was that?" Neville wondered.

"Master, you are not strong." Professor Quirrell was talking to the back of his head.

"LET ME SEE HIM!" The voice sounded again.

"Yes, master." Quirrell took his turban off to reveal a face on the back of his head.

"You are Longbottom, right?" the face asked.

"Y-y-yes." The boy stood terrified for his life.

"Stand in front of the mirror. Both of you. I've been told that is the way to find where the stone is."

Hermione and Neville moved slowly in front of the mirror.

"FASTER!" the voice croaked. "What do you see?"

"I see myself, with my family and friends standing beside me," Neville answered.

Hermione, however, did not see that. She saw herself holding the Sorcerer's Stone. "I see myself as Head Girl." She felt something drop into her pocket.

"One of them has lied! You do not lie to Lord Voldemort! Kill them!"

Quirrell lunged at the kids, but stopped short. When he touched their skin, his skin started to burn. He drew his hands away at once.

"Master, what is this madness?"

"Just kill them!"

Quirrell continued to try to kill the students, but his body was burned before he could have the chance. Voldemort, who had been living in the back of his head, left. He was nothing but a soul, a ghost of a man.

"Did we just…" Neville started.

"I do believe we did. We just saved the world. Wow."

"Let's go find Ron."

* * *

><p>Neville smiled at the memory. It was his first year of Hogwarts, and he had gotten along pretty well with some of the other students. He had made two great friends and he was happy.<p>

**Hope you liked it! I'm planning on writing a Harry chapter then a Hogwarts chapter until they meet up, post-second Wizarding War, to give a heads up. Please remember to Read and Review! I love getting emails about what people think of my stories. Please oh PLEASE Review! :D It won't take but maybe 30 seconds. :D **


	9. Ordinary Miracles and Organized Chaos

**Hey! Sorry about the delay. I was a little busy. But, I hope you like this chapter! It's a tear-jerker. I cried. I just couldn't seem to figure out when to end it, so it ended up being very long. The songs used are The Beatles' _Come Together_ and Duran Duran's _Ordinary World_. I was also listening to _Bad_ and _Wanna Be Startin' Something _(the Glee versions) during part of this chapter. Again, I hope you like it! Enjoy! :D **

**AN: All recognizable characters are subject to the mind of J.K. Rowling, who was played by Poppy Montgomery in the movie 'Magic Beyond Words: The J.K. Rowling Story'. It was a good movie, and if you haven't seen it, you should. **

Ordinary Miracles and Organized Chaos

Harry sat on his bed and looked around his dorm room. For the past year, this school had been his home. He had made a few new friends that year, such as Grant. Grant had been one true friend this year. The two had stuck together for the past year, even in the face of bullies and sorrow. His glance landed on the bed across from him.

The bed was….

Harry shuddered as he remembered the boy he had befriended. The boy who had so much going for him. The boy who was teased for being strange. The boy he had stood up for. The boy who would never come back. The boy who was…

Gone.

* * *

><p>It was a rainy early Spring day of Harry's first year. He had just finished his last period, Musical Instruct. He was walking down the hall of Dr. Clariton's, thinking about his day. Mr. Wood had just had him learn to play the trombone. Grant, who was in Musical Instruct also and could play trombone well, helped him learn. He was grateful for Grant, but he felt that his life would be easier, and would have more meaning, if he had another friend. He wanted one more boy that he could share his thoughts with, one he could talk to if he needed it. Mr. Wood had called him out to answer a question, something about whole notes. He had gotten it wrong, well, Mr. Wood said he had. Harry was sick and tired of the teachers not liking him because of what Dudley had said. It would be a miracle if Harry could find someone who didn't see him as 'Dudley's stupid younger cousin.'<p>

Harry was thinking about this, and about having another friend, when he heard it. It sounded like a boy, crying. No, not crying, sobbing. He walked a little faster, trying to figure out where the boy was. It turned out that the boy was further down the hallway than he had expected. Harry was confused. _There's no way I could've heard crying when he was _that _far away. I guess I have good hearing or something._

He eventually arrived at a door, and could hear the boy crying inside. He opened the door, and found a small boy crying in the janitor's closet.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked the boy. "Do you want to talk?" He sat down on the floor next to the boy, who was sitting in the fetal position.

"I-i-it's j-j-just…" The boy managed to squeeze a few words between sniffs. He gathered all his courage and looked Harry in the eye. "They're just so mean, ya know?"

"Who is?" Harry asked. He was concerned as to who would be mean enough to a boy this tiny. "Did someone bully you?"

"Yes," he answered, looking back down at his hands, which were clasped between his knees. "It was Dursley, and his little band of followers. I think Anderson was in on it too."

Harry looked distraught, but a little understanding at the same time. "Dudley Dursley is my cousin," he told the boy. "He's been bullying me ever since I can remember. This school is no different."

"But I bet you've never had to hide in a janitor's closet to escape the bullies." The boy was becoming more comfortable with the newcomer, and almost looked like he was going to smile.

Harry chuckled. "No, I haven't. But I have been bullied my entire life, so the crying stopped when I was, well, five or six I think. Dudley called me a lying, crying baby. That was the moment I realized I needed to stop crying. I wish it would've also been the moment Dudley stopped picking on me, but I'm not sure that's _ever_ going to happen. I'm sorry, I am talking about myself without even telling you who I am. My name is Harry Potter."

"I'm J.T. Gray. I know who you are, Harry. You're in most of my classes."

Harry looked confused.

J.T. went on. "You usually don't see me because I'm either at the back of the classroom trying to stay away from the bullies or I'm in some place like here, trying to stay alive. I'm sick of it."

"Well," Harry said with a smile. "You're in luck. You can hang out with me and Grant, one of my friends. We always get bullied here, and it's good to have some support when that happens."

"Thank you so much!" J.T. looked like he was about to kiss Harry because he was so happy.

"Here," Harry stood up and offered a hand to the boy. "Let's get out of here."

The two new friends walked back to the dorm rooms. On their way, Harry saw Grant.

"Grant!" Harry exclaimed. "Buddy! Do you know J.T.?"

"Um, yeah," Grant replied. "I do. He's in a few of my classes. I'm Grant Galvaston. It's nice to meet you." He turned to his friend. "How did you come across J.T.?" Grant looked puzzled.

Harry looked at his new friend and silently asked if it would be okay to tell the real story. J.T. shrugged as in agreement, so Harry began.

"I heard someone crying when I was walking back from Musical Instruct, so I followed the sound. I found J.T. sitting in the janitor's closet. He was hiding from some bullies, Dudley I'm guessing."

"Oh," Grant said suddenly. "Well, you just missed it. Jacobs, the huge burly senior, just got busted for beating up some firstie. It was amazing. I think we may have a chance."

"That'd be likely," Harry replied sarcastically. "Jacobs is one of the people Dudley admires. He'd love to take his place, and I bet you he will one day. Just give it a matter of time."

"Why do the teachers love the bullies but hate us?" J.T. asked, worried.

"That, my new friend, is a question I've asked myself for years and years."

"It's probably because they were bullies as kids," interjected Grant. "It would only make sense.

At that moment, a kickball came soaring through the air.

"OI! GET OUT OF THE WAY!" a voice bellowed through the hallway. The Dr. Clariton's hallways were quite tall and wide. Many students loved to play games in the hallways (even though it was against the rules) during days that were too rainy or cold to use the greens.

Harry, Grant, and J.T. jumped out of the way just as a couple Freshmen ran through the halls, looking for where their ball went. Harry recognized a few of them as being in the bathroom with him when he had seen Grant for the first time.

All of the boys on one floor (and even one side of one floor) shared a bathroom. The room assignments for each floor were random, which meant that Harry and Logan's room was across the hall from a Thirdie room, on the left was a Deuce room, and on the right was another Firstie room. To be more precise, on the right was Grant's room. He was rooming with Nick, who was one of the boys Dudley ran around with. Down the hall were a few Freshman and Sophomore rooms. They tended to keep to themselves, except in the bathroom where they yanked Firsties out of the shower and pushed them away from the mirror at any chance. The school claimed to be "zero-tolerance," but what went on in the dorm section of the school was unknown to the teachers. Plus, the teachers played favorites better than a NBA player played basketball.

"Alright," Harry started. "I need to get away from these people."

"Do you want to go to the Minor Lounge?" asked Grant.

The Minor Lounge was the main hang-out for Firsties through Thirdies. It was a huge room located at the end of the dorm hall. There was a big television for video games, a bar with cokes and the works, arcade games, and a couple pool tables that could be changed into air-hockey tables. A door at the back led to the greens, where at any given time in the day there were people playing different games, such as frisbee, kickball, or basketball.

"Sure," Harry replied. "J.T., do you want to come with us?"

"Absolutely!" J.T. answered enthusiastically. "I've been to the Minor Lounge, but never _with_ anyone. Here, let me go grab something."

They had been walking down the dorm hall, and apparently right by J.T.'s room. He disappeared into his room, and emerged carrying a guitar.

"Here. Now we can have a sing-along!"

"You play guitar?" asked a surprised Grant.

"Ever since I was six. My parents bought me this for my eighth birthday. It's my favorite thing in the whole wide world. I'd been playing my older brother's old guitar. He goes here, not that he would ever talk to a little first year like me." J.T. looked down at the ground.

"Come on," Harry suggested. "Let's go to the Minor Lounge."

The three started their trek to the Lounge. After passing the bathrooms, they noticed Dudley was right down the hall. He was discussing something with his friends, possibly a way to become known at the school.

"Uh," Harry said as he stopped suddenly. "I really don't want to walk past Dudley. He's gonna do something, I just know it."

"Don't worry," Grant assured. "We'll protect you."

"Yeah," agreed J.T. "We'll protect you."

This was quite strange, since Grant and J.T. were so much smaller than Harry, but Harry took the complement nonetheless. He manned up and began walking again. The trio passed Dudley, or at least started to.

Dudley stepped out into the middle of the hall, right in front of Harry.

"Where do you think you're going?" he sneered.

"Get out of my way," Harry retorted. "I'm not bothering you so don't bother me."

Grant and J.T. were surprised at the way Harry had handled this, but their surprise did not last long.

"Now, cousin, that is where you're wrong. You _are _bothering me, just by being on this planet. I don't know why my parents let you come to this school. I was supposed to be rid of you. I heard them talking about sending you away. But, sadly, I am stuck with you in this school."

Dudley's friends moved to surround the three boys.

"Mark my words, Potter. This is my school, and if you get in my way I _will_ destroy you. And you can't go crying to mummy and daddy, because you _haven't got them_!"

The bullies started laughing. One boy, Jacob Jones, stopped, and looked down at Dudley.

"Hey, dude," he began.

"_What_, Jones?" Dudley asked, harsh. He was mad that someone had interrupted him when he was on a roll.

"Your pants, well…" He pointed at Dudley's shorts. "Look." He was trying not to laugh at the sight.

Dudley looked down and saw that the front of his shorts was covered in water. It looked like he had….

"OH MY GOD DURSLEY PEED HIS PANTS!"

A few older boys were hanging out in the hall and spotted the incident, so they decided to let the whole hall know. Laughter resounded through the hall. Harry looked at his cousin, and saw that yes, his pants were wet. But, he did not have an accident, nor did he spill anything there. Harry knew he'd done it. Harry knew it had happened because he was so mad. Strange things kept happening to Harry when he had an intense emotion. He wasn't sure why, but when they weren't getting him in trouble, they gave him a good escape route.

Which was what this was now.

"Hurry!" Harry cried to Grant and J.T. "Go! GO!"

The three sprinted down the hallway until they were far enough away from the scene.

"We're practically at the Minor Lounge," commented Grant. They had started walking to their destination.

"We're here!" J.T. said happily as he opened the door.

The trio stepped through the doorway to be hit by a paper airplane.

"Seriously," Harry muttered to himself. "I can't walk through a door properly without getting hit by something."

"Sorry about that," a Thirdie with long black hair apologized as he picked the airplane up off the ground. "Stupid thing keeps going the wrong way. I'm Aaron, by the way." He stuck his hand out to greet the boys. "Aaron Baker."

Each boy introduced himself to the Thirdie and shook his hand.

"I see you have a guitar," Aaron said.

"Yeah," J.T. replied. "Do you play?"

"A little." Aaron could see this boy was looking for some guidance. Not for guitar, but in life. "But I'm better at drums. Let's hear what you can do."

The boys sat down on one of the couches. It had previously been occupied by a few Deuces, but Aaron had made them move. All of the other couches were occupied by Thirdie boys who were playing video games.

"I-i-I'm not very good," J.T. began.

"Oh come on," Harry interjected. "You were just going on about how you've been playing for years now."

The smaller boy shot Harry a look that said, _Now why'd you have to do that?_

Harry just shrugged his shoulders.

J.T. began playing a riff on his guitar. He sounded pretty good.

"Is that…?" Aaron asked. He had recognized the tune J.T. was playing.

"Uh-huh."

J.T. began to sing, and Aaron joined in.

_Here come old flat top  
>He come groovin' up slowly<br>He got joo joo eyeballs  
>He one holy rollers<br>He got hair down to his knee  
>Got to be a joker<br>He just do what he please_

_He wear no shoeshine_  
><em>He got toe jam football<br>__He got monkey finger  
>He shoot Coca Cola<br>He say I know you, you know me  
>One thing I can tell you is<br>You got to be free  
><em>

_Come together, right now  
>Over me<em>

_He bad production_  
><em>He got walrus gumboot<em>  
><em>He got Ono sideboard<em>  
><em>He one spinal cracker<em>  
><em>He got feet down below his knees<em>  
><em>Hold you in his armchair<em>  
><em>You can feel his disease<em>

_Come together, right now_  
><em>Over me<em>

_He roller coaster_  
><em>He got early warning<em>  
><em>He got muddy water<em>  
><em>He one Mojo filter<em>  
><em>He say one and one and one is three<em>  
><em>Got to be good looking<em>  
><em>Cause he's so hard to see<em>

_Come together right now_  
><em>Over me<em>

_Come together, yeah_  
><em>Come together, yeah<em>  
><em>Come together, yeah<em>  
><em>Come together, yeah<em>  
><em>Come together, yeah<em>

"That was really good," commented Harry when they finished singing.

"Yeah," Grant agreed. "Do you know any Journey or Eagles songs?"

"Um…." J.T. thought for a second. "Yeah! I remember a couple. My dad's given me a few tapes of theirs. But I there's this other band that I like better, and I'm sure you'll like it." He began strumming._  
><em>

_Came in from a rainy Thursday on the avenue  
>Thought I heard you talking softly<em>  
><em>I turned on the lights, the TV, and the radio<em>  
><em>Still I can't escape the ghost of you<em>

_What has happened to it all?_  
><em>Crazy someone say<em>  
><em>Where is the life that I recognize?<em>  
><em>Gone away<em>

_But I won't cry for yesterday_  
><em>There's an ordinary world<em>  
><em>Somehow I have to find<em>  
><em>And as I try to make my way<em>  
><em>To the ordinary world<em>  
><em>I will learn to survive<em>

_Passion or coincidence once prompted you to say_  
><em>"Pride will tear us both apart"<em>  
><em>Well now prides gone out the window<em>  
><em>Cross the rooftops, run away<em>  
><em>Left me in the vacuum of my heart<em>

_What is happening to me?_  
><em>Crazy someone say<em>  
><em>Where is my friend when I need you most?<em>  
><em>Gone away<em>

_But I won't cry for yesterday_  
><em>There's an ordinary world<em>  
><em>Somehow I have to find<em>  
><em>And as I try to make my way<em>  
><em>To the ordinary world<em>  
><em>I will learn to survive<em>

_Papers in the roadside tell of suffering and greed_  
><em>Fear today, forgot tomorrow<em>  
><em>Besides the news of holy war and holy need<em>  
><em>Ours is just a little sorrowed talk<em>

_(Just blown away)_

_And I don't cry for yesterday_  
><em>There's an ordinary world<em>  
><em>Somehow I have to find<em>  
><em>And as I try to make my way<em>  
><em>To the ordinary world<em>  
><em>I will learn to survive<em>

_Every world is my world_  
><em>(I will learn to survive)<em>  
><em>Any world is my world<em>  
><em>(I will learn to survive)<em>  
><em>Any world is my world<em>  
><em>Every world is our world<em>

"Wow," Grant said. "That's really good. Who is it?"

"Duran Duran," Aaron answered for J.T. "My dad's obsessed with them. Apparently his brother introduced him, so he's thrown their music on us."

"That's funny," J.T. added.

"Why's it funny?" Harry asked. He was interested, and confused. J.T. and Aaron looked a _lot _alike.

"Well…" J.T. began.

He and Aaron looked at each other, as if asking each other a question.

"My dad brought us up on their music. It was forcefed to us as little kids." J.T. glanced at Aaron, telling him to take over the explanation.

"We're cousins," Aaron said matter-of-factly.

"You're _what_?" Grant asked, surprised. "You never told us that!"

"Well," J.T. said again. "We never told you anything that would make you feel otherwise."

"True, true," Grant surrendered.

"Let's sing more songs," Harry suggested.

The boys nodded, and J.T. picked up his guitar. He began playing and they sang for an hour. Some of the other Thirdies who were in the Minor Lounge joined in their sing-along.

When the group finished _I Just Can't Wait to be King_, one of many Disney songs they'd sung, a newly dried Dudley walked in. He was flanked by none other than his dreadful, terrible posy, which now included Logan Anderson.

"Look at this, Anderson," Dudley sneered. "It's a little group of baby Firsties singing stupid baby Disney songs." He walked over to the couch as his friends laughed.

"Go away," J.T. said, sternly. He was frightened, but mad at the same time.

"Oo," jeered Logan.

"Oo," Dudley echoed. "Is little itty baby Gray trying to stand up to me? Ha. That's hilarious."

He walked closer to J.T. and his guitar, causing the other three to stand up in his defense. They knew what a bully like Dudley could potentially do, and they didn't want J.T. to have to suffer that.

It was the eldest boy who spoke first. "Dudley, get out. No one wants you here."

"Wow," Logan started. "Look at that Dudley. Now the stupid baby Thirdie who hangs out with baby Firsties to make himself feel better is trying to get you to leave? I'd like to see you try."

"Don't start with me," Aaron warned. He looked as if he was about to pounce the bully.

Dudley started laughing. It was a maniacal, crazy laugh, and it ended as soon as it began. "Come at me, bro."

"You know you want to fight him," Logan contested.

Aaron glared at his competitor. He brought his hands up in a boxing position, and took a step toward Dudley. He was ready to fight.

Unexpectedly, his eyes glazed over and he brought his hands back down, slowly. _I can't do this. Not with him._ He walked right out the door to the greens.

The door slammed with a _thud_ as one of the other Thirdies in the Minor Lounge stopped playing video games and stood up.

"What. The. Crap. Is. Your. Problem." Each word was punctuated with anger. He towered over Dudley. "This boy has gone through _much more_ _shit _than you stupid little piece of crap could ever _think _of. Now, get your sorry arse out of this Lounge before I throw it out."

Dudley was terrified. He really seemed scared. Apparently this Thirdie was more frightening than he was.

"Get. Out." Another Thirdie had stood up.

"You'll be sorry you ever messed with me." Dudley looked at the Minor Lounge as he sulked out the door. His posy followed, all except one.

The boy's gaze traveled around the room as he spoke. "I'm sorry for Dudley. He's not himself."

"That's very well," the first Thirdie started.

"But you need to leave," the second Thirdie finished.

He left.

The two Thirdies, who turned out to be Aaron's friends, turned to J.T.

"Dude," the first began. "You need to go check on him."

"Yeah," the second added. "You know what he went through."

"And you know where he'll be."

J.T. nodded and walked out the door to the greens. He found Aaron sitting on a tree stump by the river in the woods.

"So same place, huh?" J.T. asked his cousin. "I seem to find you here a lot."

Aaron had calmed down somewhat. He was no longer steaming. He glanced up at his cousin.

"I just can't do this anymore." He had his head in his hands and his voice was muffled.

"Dude it's—"

"_No._ You don't effing understand. I just let a little shit of a Firstie almost get me _arrested_—_again_! I can't do this. I have to go."

"_Aaron_. Listen to me." He turned his cousin's face toward him and held it there. "It does _not _matter where you've been, or what you've done during your past. What _does_ matter is how you live out your future."

"That's a damn load of crap if I've ever heard any. You know that shit isn't true."

"Hey, now. I know you're upset, but seriously. You need advice. I know I'm two years younger than you, but I'm your cousin. I care about you. Honestly."

"Well, thanks for that. But I'm gonna leave. Sorry." He got up and walked back inside. He was going to go the long way around to get to his dorm room easier. He was bound and determined to leave this hostile place.

"AARON DYLAN BAKER." J.T. was furious now, and he needed his cousin to pay attention to him. "Turn your sorry arse around and listen to me."

"What do you want, J.T.? I can't give you anything. I'm a good for nothing sorry fart who isn't going to amount to anything because I blow up at everyone. I just feel so angry _all the time_."

"Well, cousin, you may not feel needed but do you know what I need?"

"What's that, J.T.?"

"I need you. I need my loving, crazy cousin to guide me through this school and protect me from the awful bullies, while teaching me how to overcome them myself so I can do that one day."

Aaron smiled and walked back to his cousin. "Fine. I'll stay. Just for you, little buddy."

They hugged and walked back into the school.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

The start of Harry, J.T. and Grant's second year was rocky. They had made it through their first year, but barely. Every day brought a slew of bully encounters, a few of which were actually stopped by teachers. Harry had learned to play the guitar, so he and J.T. jammed a lot in the Minor Lounge. It gave him an escape from the bullies. Harry had gone to Headmaster Ritcher and asked him if he could switch rooms. Headmaster Ritcher allowed this switch, so J.T. (who had been rooming with Dudley) moved into Harry's room. All four boys went for it, especially since Logan and Dudley were so close. They seemed to have formed a D&L gang. They walked around every day like they owned the Minor side, even though they were still Deuces. They still saw Aaron a lot, even in their Deuce year.

Aaron had checked himself into an anger management class over the summer in order to get his emotions under control. It seemed to have worked. Aaron was their, say, knight in shining armor, their mentor, their sensei. He helped the three boys out with whatever they needed. He taught them everything he knew about the school and how to survive. Harry, J.T., and Grant were all successful students because of him.

It was the trio's Thirdie year that really set him off. The D&L gang seemed to have really taken off in the Minor side of the school. The teachers even loved them and their suck-up ways. It was quite strange. They seemed to rule their half of the school. Most everyone stayed out of their way and didn't back-talk them, well, except for a few. The Majors all hated them. They thought the boys were too much like wannabees. This just caused them to be even meaner, since they were 'trying to prove themselves.' Their new stance on things made even some of the Majors pissed off.

"AARON! GET OFF ME!" a voice rang throughout the dorm hallway. It came from the hallway in between the Minor and Major Lounges.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU WERE THE ONE WHO CALLED J.T. THAT…THAT _STUPID SELFISH NAME_!"

Needless to say, Aaron was fighting. He was consumed in a brawl with Logan. Logan had been making fun of J.T., and had called him a faggot. Apparently Logan thought J.T. was gay, even though he wasn't. He was more, say, metrosexual. It upset Aaron nonetheless.

The crowd around the boys made it hard for Harry, J.T., and Grant to reach the middle of the circle. They had just arrived from Lunch. After Lunch, all Deuces and older had a free period while the Firsties were in P.E. The older kids had their Physical Education after the normal class period ended.

Harry gathered all his strength and shoved his way to the middle of the circle. He wrenched his roommate's cousin off of his old roommate, and just in time.

Logan had reached into his pocket and pulled out…

A knife.

"Logan," Dudley said in a warning tone. "Don't do this, dude." He stood in front of his friend and tried to reason with him. "You don't want to get in trouble for this."

"Aaron." Harry was trying to calm his friend down. "It's okay. Calm down, dude."

By this time, J.T. and Grant had both made their way to their friends.

J.T. looked at his cousin. "Aaron, dude, please. It's not that big of a deal. Stop provoking him."

"Um, guys?" Grant began. "He has a knife now. And a bloodthirsty look in his eyes."

"Bloody hell," Harry cursed.

"What did you just say?" Grant asked, curious.

"Just something I say every now and then. But why are you curious about that? The guy has a damn _knife_ and you're curious about me saying _bloody _freaking _hell_. Seriously, man, get your effing priorities straight."

"!" a scream that filled the entire hallway sounded as Logan broke away from Dudley's hold and ran toward the group. Logan was headed for Aaron.

"NOOOOOOO!" J.T. cried as he jumped in front of his cousin.

Logan's knife lodged in J.T.'s heart. Dead center.

Harry and Grant bent down to inspect their friend, to see what exactly had happened.

"TEACHER!"

"SOMEONE CALL A TEACHER!"

"OH MY GOSH IS HE DEAD?"

"IS THAT…J.T.?"

Aaron, in shock, just stood there. He glared at Logan, bloodthirst in _his_ eye. He started toward him, determined to make him pay for what he did to his cousin.

Harry noticed just in time and stopped Aaron. "It doesn't have to go this way. He'll get what he deserves."

"THAT FUCKING LUNATIC JUST FUCKING KILLED MY COUSIN!" **(A/N: Sorry if that word makes you uncomfortable, but the guy just watched his cousin give his life to save him. Seriously. Don't hate.) **He bent down over J.T. and started sobbing.

"I know that," Harry said, strangely calm. "But you don't have to make yourself pay for something stupid." He led his friend back to the other side of the circle. The students had separated into two groups. Those who were on Aaron's side, and those who, well, didn't want to upset Logan and see his rage by going to the other side.

Logan just stood there. He was the most shocked of all. He was looking at his hands, with the exact same expression as Tony when he killed Bernardo in West Side Story.

"Alright," Headmaster Ritcher started as he made his way to the scene. "Mister Potter, Mister Galvaston, please escort Mister Baker and the body of his cousin to the office. The police are here, and they will be asking questions. There is also a family coming to see the boy. As for the rest of you, I know this is interesting, but please go back to your rooms. We will update you soon, but right now this is between a few people who need time to themselves."

Everyone left, except Dudley and Logan. They were escorted a different way by Headmaster Ritcher and Mr. Walker.

Mr. Wood had walked with the affected boys to the office. Aaron was still sobbing. It was strange to Harry and Grant to see this older, wiser, more masculine guy sob his eyes out, but it was normal.

"OH MY GOSH!" A woman with unnaturally blonde hair ran and enveloped J.T. in her arms. "MY BABY! MY BOY!"

"Mrs. Gray, I need to inspect your son." An EMT had approached the woman, J.T.'s mom. He picked the boy up carefully and set him on a stretcher. The boys stood by as he checked for any sign of life. "Mrs. Gray, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this but—"

"Don't say it," J.T.'s mom cut him off. "Just take him." She was sobbing into a handkerchief. Aaron walked over to his aunt and wrapped an arm around her.

"Let's go." The two left, following the EMTs and the police officers.

Harry and Grant were left in the corridor by the office. Neither of them had seen someone die, well, that they remembered, so they weren't sure what to do or how to act.

Headmaster Ritcher walked into the corridor and saw the two boys. "Boys, thank you for accompanying your friend to his mother, but now would be a good time to go back to your rooms. Harry, if you need to, you may sleep in Grant's room. It may help you sleep better."

As he turned away to walk into the office, Harry thought he saw the glint of a tear in his eye. The boy had affected many, in ways unknown even to him.

* * *

><p>"Harry?" Grant stuck his head in the door. "It's time to go."<p>

"Okay," Harry replied. He stood up and looked around the room once more. _Sigh_. He was crying as he walked to the door.

"Let's go."

**Writing this chapter gave me chills and made me cry. Seriously. And sorry about the increased amount of swearing. But it was appropriate for what they were going through. I'm sorry if I unknowingly joined a game of 'Kill off your favorite characters.' :P Anyways, I want to know what _you_ thought of this chapter, so please Read and Review! Virtual cookies to all who do! :D Haha that rhymed. Sorry, I'm rambling again. Please Read and Review! :D**


	10. Beautiful Funerals and Overwhelming Past

**Thank you to everyone who has subscribed, reviewed, or even read this story. :D I am grateful to all of you. Virtual cookies (and thoughts of meeting the cast of HP) to everybody! :D :D The songs used in this chapter are: Livin' Without You by Steve Alek, Hakuna Matata from The Lion King, and Tomorrow Will Be Kinder by Secret Sisters (also from The Hunger Games).**

**A/N: All characters who are familiar at all outside of this are subject to the studious mind of J.K. Rowling, who can write a much better funeral scene than I can. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>The funeral was held in the Dr. Von Dee Grand Assembly and Dining Atrium. The students, who hated this name—it was such a mouthful—nicknamed it the Grand Atrium. The usually brown walls were covered from floor to ceiling with black cloth. Harry, Grant, Aaron, and some of the boys' other friends helped put the cloth up. Harry remembered trying to hold back his tears the entire time, and then eventually having to stop working to sit down and cry. Grant and Aaron did not fare any better. The older boy left the Atrium one day while they were applying the cloth. He did not show up for the rest of the day. When Harry left, he saw Aaron sitting outside by his tree—the tree at which J.T. had kept him from giving up.<p>

The long cafeteria tables were removed and black folding chairs were put in rows. An aisle ran down the center, where J.T. would be carried in his beautiful deep brown casket. Harry, Grant, and Aaron were asked to be part of the time-honored tradition of pallbearers. Mrs. Gray had come to them the day before she was planning her son's funeral. She knew J.T.'s friends would want a place in the service.

The Atrium's black banners with red and blue trim stayed in their normal place, save the one at the very center of the room. This banner was usually entirely black, but for funerals it was changed to entirely white. One of the oldest legends at Dr. Clariton's was that allowing a white banner in the center of the Atrium would allow the soul of the deceased to have a front row seat at his/her funeral. There had been many funerals during Dr. Clariton's 300 years of existing, and every funeral honored this tradition. Harry had attended five funerals, but they were all for elderly people who had attended the school years ago and died of natural causes. He had never attended a funeral for a boy still in school, much less his own age and his best friend whose murder he had witnessed.

Harry hung back in the hallway right outside the Atrium. It was 3 o'clock p.m.—natural funeral time for Dr. Clariton funerals. He was tired of crying, tired of feeling sad, tired of just being tired. He knew he needed to be strong for his friend, which was why he had agreed so wholeheartedly to being a pallbearer.

Grant, who was standing next to him and had a stone-blank face, suddenly looked away from the stained glass window of someone crying and up at Harry. He fumbled with his black suit coat as he began speaking. "We need to do something. Something big. Something to make the whole school remember just what J.T. went through."

Harry was intrigued. His friend had never expressed this side of him, the sensitive side. Grant was the leader, the rock of their group. He never showed sad emotion. He laughed all the time, but he never once cried. Or at least, never that Harry had seen.

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked his friend, whose voice had cracked at least twice, as if he were about to start bawling. He hoped the idea would be wonderful, and knowing Grant, it would.

"We need to create a memorial. In the school. And we need to get the stupid hateful bullies out of our school. They've caused too much trouble."

"How will we do that? You know the administration would never go for that. They only just officially expelled Logan, and he _killed J.T._!"

"I know! And that is the most stupid thing I've ever heard. But seriously, we need to do something. Something for J.T. You know he'd love that."

"Well," Harry began. He saw the funeral ushers approaching the group of boys waiting to lead J.T. in. "Right now we need to leave, and go do J.T. justice by being his friends."

"And then we can figure out what to do for his memorial?" Grant asked as they joined the group of fellow pallbearers.

"Sure, Grant," Harry answered.

They reached the others, and Headmaster Richter filled them in on the procedures for carrying the casket in.

"The boy will be wheeled in first, and you all will stand around the casket. Bringing him in this way has been the way at every funeral we've conducted."

He began conducting the boys as to where they had to stand.

"You," he pointed to Harry, "will lead on his right, with Grant behind you. Aaron will take the family place leading on his left…."

Grant zoned out as he thought of a song he wanted to sing for J.T. The boys loved to sing, as their many sing-alongs showed. _Maybe this could be the beginning of the memorial. I need to figure out what we could do for him. He went through so much. _Grant was sad and angry at the situation, but mostly upset at the administration for allowing this to happen. _Stupid teachers._ He took his spot behind Harry and waited to walk in. The giant dark oak doors shut. It was almost time to lead their friend in. He could hear the school minister, Father Carter, lead the opening prayer in the room through the giant oak doors.

He'd always liked Father Carter. He was kind, and helped him get through a few family problems. Grant was always fighting with his parents, and Father Carter became his father figure at school. Any time Grant needed anything, he would go to the elderly man. He was practically seventy-years-old, with shock-white hair. He had a full beard, but not long enough to play Santa. Father Carter was skinny, a trait that did not grace any of the elders of Grant's family.

"…God, grace this family today and keep them safe throughout this service. In Your holy name, Amen."

The congregation joined in with resounding Amens, and then Grant knew what was to happen next. Headmaster Richter, who had entered the Atrium through a soundless side door, would step up to the pulpit and introduce the pallbearers, which meant he needed to get in his place.

"Boys,"Coach Montgomery hissed. He was attempting to keep the boys quiet and get them ready to carry J.T. in. Coach Montgomery had become J.T.'s favorite teacher, one who he could always count on to talk to. That was not always the case, but changed after J.T. showed his talent in sports.

* * *

><p>This had arrived at the most inopportune of times. J.T. was being bullied, unsurprisingly. He was being chased through the grounds by Logan.<p>

"Gray! You're gonna get it!" Logan was screaming at the top of his lungs, right before he collapsed.

J.T. was a good 200 yards in front of the bully, who was now hovering over, panting. "What, am I too fast for a bully like you to catch, Logan?" J.T. reveled in this moment of victory, then started running when he saw the other had regained his breath.

Apparently, Logan had a good set of lungs. He wasn't skinny, but he wasn't the fattest of the group by far. He started up again after his prey, intent on catching the boy. Logan had noticed something missing, something he needed, something that was precious to him. He knew it was J.T.'s fault, and it wasn't the first time, so now the boy was going to pay.

J.T. glanced behind him mid-run and found his pursuer wasn't gaining. However, he sped up, since he was so close to the school. As he turned his head back around, he noticed a few students lounging on the lawn. They were lying side by side. As J.T. approached them, he thought, _I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna jump them. Logan can't do it. _He smiled to himself as he prepared for his feat.

When he was a few feet in front of the students, J.T. sailed himself through the air and across all five. He stuck the landing…

And ran _smack_ into Coach Montgomery, the physical teacher, and coach of practically every sport at Dr. Clariton's.

Both fell to the ground, right on top of each other.

"Mr. Gray," the teacher began. He took a deep breath. "Please get off of me. You're cutting my air supply off."

"I'm sorry, Coach Montgomery." J.T. stood up, and turned to face the teacher. He was positive he was in trouble. None of his teachers, especially Coach Montgomery, liked him, as they were all under the bullies' 'trance'.

"It's alright," Coach Montgomery replied. He held his hand out to J.T., who took it and helped him stand up. "You were running pretty fast there. Can I ask why?"

"It was Logan. He was trying to catch me to beat me up." J.T. figured he might as well tell the truth. No getting past Coach Montgomery. The man had eyes in every corner of the school.

"Now, why would Logan, my star wrestler and future fullback, be chasing someone like you to beat you up?"

J.T knew the coach would never believe anything he said. Especially when it was something about Logan. He mustered up his courage as he prepared to say something, _anything_, to make this coach believe him.

"Well," he began sheepishly. The coach looked like he was about to strangle the young boy. "He's actually been doing this for some time now. He hates—"

"Now let me stop you right there." Coach Montgomery cut J.T. off with his hand. "This boy is no threat to you. I, however, am feeling a little generous today. Because of this, I will give you a chance at redeeming yourself as a person, and in my classroom."

J.T. did not have a good grade in school, and extra credit, especially in health, would help his grades. "Yessir, I'm listening."

"I am looking to recruit for the new Major Track Team. You would make an amazing long jumper and possibly sprinter."

J.T. was surprised at this. _A spot on the track team? I never thought I'd even be thought of for such an opportunity. _"Thank you, sir. What would this entail, exactly?"

"Well, you would have to start working out with the team, as soon as the new term began. Anyone younger than a Freshman has to wait until their last Thirdie Semester." A sound came from the inside of his pocket, signaling a phone call. Coach Montgomery pulled his phone out and glanced at it. "I am sorry, but I must take this call. I will be in touch."

Coach Montgomery walked away, pulling the phone to his ear. J.T. stood, eyes transfixed on the spot where the coach had been. _Wow, _he thought. _First, I get bullied for something I didn't do, and now I'm on the Major Track Team. My days are so weird._

He turned to go find Harry, Grant, and Aaron, and tell them his good news.

J.T. found them in the Minor Lounge, singing. _Well, that's not surprising._ Instead of being in the main Lounge room, they were out on the patio, jamming out with some other Minors. Grant and Harry were becoming a little popular, since they always led sing-alongs.

They had just finished one song, a song J.T. was not that familiar with, so he couldn't place the title. He walked over to the group, who was using the outside fireplace brick as a bench.

"J.T.!" Aaron called. "Hey!" He gave his cousin a wave.

"Aaron! I have the best news."

"Oh, what is it? Can we know?" Harry and Grant said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed. Apparently being in the same room as each other had its advantages, such as saying the exact same thing at the exact same time.

"Well, I was offered a spot on the Major Track Team."

"What, how?" asked Grant.

"Let him finish, dude," Harry scolded his roommate.

"Sorry." Grant looked taken aback.

"It's okay." J.T. smiled at his friend. He began telling the story of how he had ran into Coach Montgomery, literally.

* * *

><p><em>He never got to attend that first practice with the Majors<em>, Grant thought to himself. _But he did get on Coach Montgomery's good side. _He listened as he heard Headmaster Richter introduce the boys.

They walked in, carrying the casket. Grant finally got to see the Atrium. More people than he would've ever imagined had shown up for J.T.'s funeral. The Atrium was immensely packed. Some of the boys who liked to join their sing-alongs were standing around the room. As Grant made his way toward the front of the room, he noticed some of the boys were straightening their collars, and looked ready to burst into song.

He was right, and as he made eye contact with Harry, who had turned around for a split second, he felt a wave of relief that _something _was being done that day in J.T.'s memory. A boy had made his way to the grand piano resting on the left corner of the stage.

The stage, which usually held the teachers' table for lunches and dinners, had been transformed into the perfect funeral area. Dozens of flowers adorned the altar that had been brought in from the small chapel in which Father Carter preached. Some of these flowers were vined through the table on which the casket would be placed.

Grant was watching the boy at the piano, and recognized him as Brandon Dervin, one of the Thirdies who was always willing to join in on an impromptu sing-along. When Brandon played the first notes of the song, Grant did not recognize the song. _Is it an original?_ He thought to himself. Brandon had been known to compose some pretty amazing original songs, and if he could pull one more out for J.T.'s funeral, well, that would be the best present anyone could give. At least, that's what Grant thought.

"Dude," Harry hissed at his best friend. "Are they about to—"

Harry's words were cut off at the sound of the first voice.

_Now that you're gone  
>You've done everything<br>You've been taken away  
>Oh, I guess you've earned your wings<em>

_We're all gathered here  
>In this memory of you<br>This is one of those things  
>We're sad but honored to do<em>

_You were always there for everybody  
>You brought your bright rays of light to those cloudy days<br>You were an inspiration for everybody  
>Oh how we wish that you could stay<em>

_Now that you're gone  
>Oh, you've done everything<br>You've been taken away  
>I know you've earned those wings<em>

_Now and through all the years  
>And through the lessons that we've learned<br>We look upon you as so much more  
>Than a friend<em>

_We miss you so much  
>We're all at a loss<br>We're here just thinkin' about you  
>Oh it's we that pay the cost<em>

_The memories are strong  
>Oh, it hurts to live this song<br>The hardest part about this  
>Is livin' without you<em>

_You were always there for everybody  
>You brought the bright rays of light to the cloudy days<br>You were an inspiration for everybody  
>Oh how we wish that you could stay<em>

_Now that you're gone  
>You've done everything<br>You've been taken away  
>God knows you've earned your wings<em>

There was not a dry eye in the house as the boys sang the last chord of their song. Brandon found Grant's eyes as he made his place back along the side of the audience. The boy smiled, a sad, sympathetic smile. Grant smiled back with the same sad smile he had been giving everyone the entire day. He wiped a tear from his cheek, keeping his weight of the casket with the one arm. They had made it to the front of the aisle, close to the stage.

"And slowly set him down," Coach Montgomery told the boys. They were setting J.T. (in the casket of course) on a wheeled table in the front of the Atrium. This way he would be high enough that people could view him after the service (it was an open casket). Also, if the boys who were carrying him were too distraught to carry him back down the aisle, he could be wheeled back. It was not an uncommon thing for the casket to be carried in and then wheeled out. Especially when the deceased was one who was loved and would be missed as much as J.T.

* * *

><p>J.T. was popular before he was offered a spot on the Major Track Team, but his popularity grew after his talk with Coach Montgomery. Suddenly everyone knew who he was, which made Harry and Grant popular as well. Sing-alongs were a weekly occurrence once this happened, with more and more people joining every week.<p>

One rainy day, the Minor Lounge was full of students. A few people were outside on the lawn playing Frisbee football, but the majority were sitting on the plush chairs and couches playing video games and cards. The three walked in to find the couch they mainly occupied to be taken by a few Thirdies.

"Hmm," Harry said, thinking out loud. "Maybe we can go find a place in the concession area."

The concession area was just that. There was a giant fridge in the Lounge, surrounded by a bar. The giant barstools were red and plush, just like every other seat in the Lounge. The concession area was in the back left corner of the Lounge, so it was the perfect place to go if one wanted peace and quiet. However, that wasn't what they were using it for.

J.T., Harry, and Grant walked over to the concession area chairs. J.T. had his guitar at the ready. "What song should we sing today, boys?" he asked with a smile. He knew this question would attract many of the students in mere seconds.

"How about…" Grant began. "Something from The Lion King?"

The boys were huge Disney fans. They loved having Disney movie marathons, and The Lion King was one of their favorites.

Grant began the song with two words. "_Hakuna Matata_."

J.T. took the next line of the song, "_What a wonderful phrase_."

Grant repeated the line he'd just sang, this time while catching Harry's eye and smiling. "_Hakuna Matata_."

Harry took it as his time to sing as he took the final line of the chorus. "_Ain't no passing craze_."

All three boys looked at each other. J.T. played the chord as they sang.

_It means no worries  
>For the rest of your days<br>It's our problem free  
>Philosophy<br>Hakuna Matata_

By the time they'd finished singing this, a group had formed. The boys loved hearing J.T. play. They were convinced he would become a famous musician one day, and they wanted to be able to say they knew him 'back when.'

"Well well well." A booming voice interrupted their song. "Now it's Disney songs? I guess you are all just a bunch of faggots."

"Shut up, Logan," Harry warned.

"If you don't like it, you can leave." Grant pointed to the door.

"Oh, I don't like it," the bully sneered. "But there's no way in hell I'm leaving the Lounge because of a few baby Thirdies who think they can take over anywhere with their guitars. Isn't that right, boys?"

He looked at the group of followers who had followed him. They nodded in encouragement.

"We own this school, whether you like it or not," he continued. "And no stupid guys such as you will take it away from us."

With that, he turned and walked away, with the others following him.

Harry trailed the boys with mean, raging eyes. "I really wish someone would do something about him. I can stand Dudley more than I can stand him. That's sad." He shook his head in disapproval. Little did he know that something would happen even though it wouldn't be something anyone wanted.

* * *

><p>"…and watch over this young man. I know he is walking with You. In Your great book of Psalms, we hear David's prayer, his reassurance about death. Please, congregation, join with me in prayer: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul, He leadeth me in the path of the righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil: my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Amen."<p>

Grant, in thinking about one of the last sing-alongs he had had with J.T., missed the rest of the service. He shot himself in the foot when he realized that, because he was looking forward to hearing what Mrs. Gray and Aaron would say about J.T.

He heard Father Carter say the ending words of the funeral. The 23rd Psalm usually closed the service, but this funeral was a tad different than any other.

"I know this is unusual, but I feel led by God to end with this statement. For those of you who do not know, this young man did not die by normal circumstances. He was not sick, or ill, or ran into by a car. This boy was, to put it frankly, killed. By a student that most of you know. The killer was a bully. In order to keep J.T.'s memory alive, please, oh, _please_, do not bully people. It can hurt and even _kill_" with this he stretched an arm toward the casket "someone. Please, keep J.T.'s memory alive and be friendly to everyone. Help those who need it and show the love of Christ in all that you do. Now, if you wish, you may visit the altar and view J.T. one last time."

There was a murmur as the crowd left their seats and made their way to the front. Grant stayed where he was, along the wall with the other pallbearers. He watched the mass walk up to the casket, put their hand on it, and say a prayer or such. He recognized many of the students who attended, and even some of the adults. Each person then went over to Mrs. Gray and said a few kind words to her. She was bawling her eyes out, and looked like she hadn't slept for days. She probably hadn't.

When the crowd thinned, Grant saw the one person he wished he'd never met. _That nerve!_ he thought when he noticed the boy. He was standing in the back of the Atrium, with a dense, nervous look on his face.

"He shouldn't be here," Harry hissed into Grant's ear. He had noticed the boy, as had many others in the room.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Grant replied.

A small army of police officers surrounded the boy as he approached Mrs. Gray. She looked up at him, and when she saw him, she freaked out.

"Get that boy out of here! Right now!" She pointed an accusing finger at him and all but spat at him. Aaron stood in front of the boy, causing Grant to have a flashback of that day. That horrid day no one would get back.

"Please, ma'am," the head officer calmly began. "Let the boy speak. He has something he wants to say to you."

"What would he have to say to her?" Aaron sneered at the officer. "He's already taken the very thing she loves most in this life away from her. She has no family. No husband, no other children, she's an only child herself and orphaned by now!"

"_Please_," a small whimper came from inside the group of officers. Logan was crying, tears streaming down his face.

"Go on." Mrs. Gray had composed herself and was ready to hear what he had to say.

The officers slid apart to let Logan come forward. Grant noticed a transformation right away. Instead of being the strong, confident bully he had been a few weeks ago, Logan was a shell. He hadn't eaten in days, and the stress of being in jail was getting to him. Grant thought back to when he finally heard Logan would be going to jail.

* * *

><p>To say that Grant, Harry, and Aaron were nervous about the trial would be a major understatement. Luckily, it took five days after the murder for Mrs. Gray to acquire a trial. She knew the boys would all want to attend, to see what would happen to the murderer.<p>

Logan had not attended normal class in the days after the murder. Harry and Grant were told he was being tutored by Mr. Greene and Mr. Moses. They were appalled to hear he wasn't in jail yet. Shouldn't someone who had _killed_ someone be arrested, at least?

Harry had asked this question to Aaron. He had stopped crying and punching everything for a few minutes, allowing the two Thirdies time to talk to him.

"Not at this school," Aaron gravely said. He dropped his head in his hands and sat there for a minute. Grant and Harry looked at each other, unsure of what to do. They had made up their mind to leave when Aaron lifted his head up. "This school is crap. I hate it. I wish we still went by the mantra of the olden days of zero-tolerance. But, no." He stood up and began pacing. "Now, our school is full of crap-shot authority figures who think of no one but themselves. I'd like to take my hands against one of them and _strangle them_ and see just what they would do about it."

His phone rang, a cheerful, happy ring. He scowled at the phone as he picked it up. "Aunt Marla! Hi…yes…okay you got a lawyer?...Good…when is it?...I'll be there…thanks…okay, love you too, Aunt Marla."

Harry and Grant were intrigued at this phone call. They weren't sure who Aaron was talking to, or why it made his face go blank, but when he turned his head toward them, they found out.

"They've set a court date for Logan. It's tomorrow, at the local courthouse."

The next day, the boys sat in the courtroom audience chairs. Logan was sitting at the bench, a solemn look on his face.

"Montgomery, how does your client plea?" the judge asked Logan's lawyer.

"Is that Coach Montgomery's father?" Harry whispered his friend. The man was the spitting image of the coach, so this was the only explanation.

"Yup," Grant answered. "He's been the Anderson family lawyer for years now. It's no wonder Logan is Coach Montgomery's star and favorite."

"Guilty," the man was saying. "He pleas guilty." He gave Logan a look of 'sorry, but this has to happen'.

"I've always said someone should do something about him," Harry remarked. "And I guess now something is going to get done."

"Just wait," Grant glumly replied. "It's not going to be as good as we hoped."

"Alright," the judge was saying. The judge had a long, white beard and long, silvery hair. Even in the High chair, everyone could tell he was the tallest man in the room. He looked familiar to Harry. "According to this evidence…"

The entire audience quieted for the revealing of Logan's sentence. Grant was frozen, eyes plastered on the judge. Harry was chanting a mantra in his head of, "_Please, oh, please, oh, please, oh, please, oh, please_."

"Juvenile Detention until he's eighteen, along with 2,000 hours of community service. Once he's eighteen, another trial will determine any further punishment. Court adjourned." He banged the gavel three times as his eyes swept the room. He winked at Harry, who then realized why he recognized the man.

The judge was in his dream, the recurring dream he had had many times. He hadn't had the same dream for a few weeks, because he was having a nightmare about J.T. being killed. Those two dreams weren't the only ones he'd been having. Harry was also plagued with strange dreams of flying cars and tabby cats who could talk.

The tall man stood up, and Harry had a feeling he would see the man again, someday.

* * *

><p>The pallbearers, Aaron, Mrs. Gray, and a few others were still left, and everyone was waiting anxiously to hear just what the boy would say. He was fidgeting, shifting his weight back and forth, nervous. Logan gained his composure, and looked Mrs. Gray straight in the face.<p>

"I could start by saying I'm sorry. But what would sorry do in a time like this? Sorry can't bring back a death, it can't change time. What's done is done. However, I want to say that these past weeks have been the hardest time of my entire life." He looked at the head officer, who nodded at him to continue. "In my time at juvenile detention, everyone has to go to therapy at least twice a day. The therapist has helped me come to terms with what happened, what I did. I accept that, and I do not expect you to forgive me. I do wish I could take back what happened. If I could, I would take his spot. No one should have to go through what I put you through, Mrs. Gray, and for that I am truly, sincerely sorry. I wish I could change what I did. I acted out of impulse, out of rage for something stupid. I know that should not be used as an excuse, but I want to tell you that I've been taking anger management classes in the center, and trying to better myself. Never in my fifteen years on this earth did I ever think I would kill someone." **(A/N: Logan was held back, and he was fifteen as a Thirdie, instead of fourteen.) **

Grant watched Mrs. Gray, to see what she would do about this. Logan _did _seem to be remorseful, but it could all just be an act. Finally, the devastated mother spoke to her son's killer. "I know coming to speak to me took a lot of courage, I do not want to speak to you, or see you, or have any type of contact with you ever again. I hope all you said was true, and that no one else will have to go through what I've gone through." She addressed the officer. "Please take him away, far from here."

Logan was led out of the Atrium. Grant knew where he would be taken: down the hall, out to a police car, and back to juvenile detention, where he would spend the next three years until he could be tried as an adult and hopefully put in jail.

Harry caught Grant's eye, and nodded his head toward Mrs. Gray and Aaron. The two were struck at the sight of seeing Logan, and needed some consoling.

Grant spied J.T.'s old guitar next to Aaron. He picked it up, startling Aaron and his aunt. Grant began strumming, with the pallbearers joining in chorus.

_Black clouds are behind me  
><em>I now can see ahead<br>_Often I wonder why I try  
><em>Hoping for an end<em>___

_Sorrow weighs my shoulders down  
>And trouble haunts my mind<br>But I know the present will not last  
>And tomorrow will be kinder<em>

Mrs. Gray, who was still crying, managed to stifle a smile at the boys. They had formed a half-circle around her and Aaron.

_Tomorrow will be kinder  
>It's true, I've seen it before<br>A brighter day is coming my way  
>Yes, tomorrow will be kinder<em>

_Today I've cried a many tear  
>And pain is in my heart<br>Around me lies a somber scene  
>I don't know where to start<em>

_But I feel warmth on my skin  
>The stars have aligned<br>The wind has blown but now I know  
>That tomorrow will be kinder<em>

_Tomorrow will be kinder  
>I know I've seen it before<br>A brighter day is coming my way  
>Yes, tomorrow will be kinder<em>

_A brighter day is coming my way  
>Yes, tomorrow will be kinder<em>

Aaron gave his Thirdie friends a smile. Yes, hopefully tomorrow will be kinder. Hopefully he will not have to go through the burden of losing his cousin, his new-found friend.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed that chapter! One reason for such of a delay in my chapters is that I'm writing another story that has to be finished by the middle of June. It's called The Magic Beyond and it's about music, namely, band camp. It sounds nerdy, but hey, we're Potterheads. :P Anyway, please Read and Review this chapter! :D :D And I seriously hope you enjoyed it. <strong>


	11. It's About Time

**Hi! So, I'm sorry this chapter is kind of short, but I wrote it first before the rest of the story. Yes, it is when Harry finally meets the Wizarding World. I edited some of the chapter to fit in with the rest of the story (as you can probably tell). Hope you enjoy the finale! :D :D**

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own Ronald Weasley. I do not own Ginevra Weasley-Potter. I do not own Hermione Granger-Weasley. I do not own Neville Longbottom. If I did, they would not be household names. I would be taking the boys for myself-especially Matthew Lewis and James Phelps ;)**

* * *

><p>It's Time<p>

On Harry's eighteenth birthday, he stumbled off of the train and through the dark alleyways of a street. He was lost, starving, and upset, and it was dark and rainy.

_This is just my luck, _he thought as he turned a corner. _Just when I didn't think anything could get any worse, I go and get freaking kicked off of a train. First I go to the worst school in the world, then I lose my best friend because of a stupid reason, and then to top it all off, the last years of my school were crap! I wish I could find something to help—wait. What's that? _

Right in front of him was a little rundown restaurant.

He read the sign. "The Leaky Cauldron." The sign was tattered and torn and looked as if it had been there for a century. He opened the door and stepped inside to ease his hungry stomach. Little did he know that over the threshold sat something that would change his life.

In the restaurant, Harry learned it was not that much brighter. There were dimly-lit candles suspended somehow about 6 feet above each table. At the bar, he could've sworn he saw a man make a drinking glass disappear, but he just rode it off as a delusion, brought on by stress and lack of sleep. As he made his way to the bar, a few workers stared at him, and then ran off into the back.

_That was weird and strange, _Harry though as he sat down in a bar stool and looked around the room.

The only occupied table had four teenagers Harry's age around it. One was smoothing her brown, bushy and frizzy hair down so it could fit in a ponytail. Another, presumably her boyfriend, shook his red hair out like a dog, which brought about cries of "Hey! Quit it!" from the other redhead at the table. This red-haired girl was one of the prettiest Harry had ever seen, and when he locked eyes with her, he felt warmness go through his body that he knew he'd felt before. He could not keep his eyes off of her, and it was she who broke eye contact. She started to talk to the other boy at the table, whom Harry assumed was her boyfriend. The boy had blackish-brown hair, a tall lanky body, and a handsome face.

_Is she really with him? He doesn't look that—_

"Would you like a drink, young man?" The bartender's question brought Harry back to the bar and interrupted his thoughts.

Harry nodded. He needed something to drink to numb himself. "Sure, yes. Do you have any gin?"

"No gin, son, but we've got some firewhisky."

"What the Sam Hill is firewhisky?"

"Oh, you'll like it. Just try some. It's what we're famous for."

"Alright. How much?" He pulled out his wallet.

The bartender noted the Muggle money and told him a price. While Harry sat waiting at the bar, trying to decide what kind of establishment this was, the pretty red-haired girl sauntered over to the counter and asked for more drinks.

She looked at Harry. "Hi. I don't think I've seen you around here before," the teen remarked. "I'm Ginny." She stuck out her hand.

"Oh, well, I've never been here before. First time. I'm Harry." He shook her hand, and the warmness filled his body again.

"Makes sense. Most Muggles never come in here."

"Muggle?"

Her eyes widened, then went back to normal. "Oh, sorry. Don't worry about it."

By this time, their drinks had been delivered, and Harry raised his to his lips as Ginny carried three of the four she'd ordered back to the table.

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed. "This firewhisky is amazing!"

"Told ya so," the bartender smugly replied.

Before Ginny had a chance to return, Harry had finished one firewhisky and was starting his second.

"Whoa, there. You sure like those, don't you?" Ginny asked as she sat down in the stool next to Harry and took her drink.

"Of course!" he replied, with a smile on his face.

"So what brings you here, anyways?" she asked, a look of intrigue on her face.

"Oh, the usual. I kicked my bloody girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend, now, I'd say—out of my flat because she refused to pay rent for the fourth month in a row and she cheated on me, I just dropped out of the worst school on the planet, I lost my job with the Anti-Bullying Association, my uncle just told me he is not going to help me out anymore because I told his son off for the last time, and to top it all off, it's my bloody birthday." He finished with a _smack_ of his drink down on the counter.

"I'm sorry. Happy Birthday, by the way. Anything I can do to help?"

Harry shook his head. _This girl is really pretty, and here I am laying all my angst on her. Great. _"Thanks, but not really. I'd hate to keep you from your double date."

"Date? No. Neville'd love it, but I just don't like him that way. He's more of a brother. We are actually celebrating his birthday. Tell you what. How about you come over and sit with us? There's no one else in this god-forsaken place, and we'd love it if you'd join us. It could be joint birthday party." She waggled her eyebrows, making Harry smile. "Well, I'll be. I thought you couldn't smile."

"It comes and it goes." Harry pushed the stool back. "Alright. I guess nothing could get worse than this." He got up and followed her to the table.

They pulled up a chair, and Harry squeezed in-between Ginny and her brother.

"Guys, this is Harry. It's his birthday also," Ginny introduced.

"Hi, Harry," piped up the bushy-haired girl. "I'm Hermione."

"Hey dude," said the red-haired boy, who Harry swore he'd seen before also. "I'm Ron."

"Hi," the boy Ginny had previously been talking about replied. "I'm Neville."

Harry shook each of their hands, then said, "Nice to meet you. Sorry if I'm intruding."

"Oh, no, it's fine. We were just discussing the war," Hermione said with a smile.

"War?" Harry was confused.

A _thump_ was heard as Ginny had warningly kicked Hermione in the shin.

The bushy-haired girl tried to recover her story. "Oh, sorry. We're not from around here. But where we're from, there was recently a war in which all four of us fought. Millions were killed, on both sides. The only good thing to come out of the war was that their leader was killed. He was personally killed by this good man over here." With that she pointed over at Neville, who smiled and blushed a little. "He is our hero."

Harry smiled. "That's awesome. I guess the paper here did not cover anything about that war. I'm about to say something very strange."

The four moved closer to hear the boy speak.

"I don't know how I found this restaurant. I've passed by this part of the city many times, but I've never seen this place. Now, all of a sudden, I find myself in here sitting next to people I think I've seen before."

"What?" a shocked Ron exclaimed.

"You've seen us before?" Hermione seemed baffled.

"Do tell." Ginny said the words they were all thinking."

He tells a summary of the story, with the four getting more and more curious every time he says something new.

"It's a dream—a reoccurring dream that always begins the same. I'm a baby, and I see my mom fall to the ground, and a man turn to me. A bright light happens, and everything goes black. I wake up, and I'm in the arms of an old man with a long white beard, and long white hair. The dream dissolves to the interior of a castle. There is a big, long hall with tables set up in four columns, with hundreds of kids seated. There are candles suspended from the ceiling, but by what I can never tell. As I go through this castle, I see winding staircases. Some are even moving! But what I can never get past is the pictures. Pictures on the walls, all talking and moving about as if they're real people! They are all saying to me, 'Welcome, Mr. Potter.' 'We are pleased you are here, Mr. Potter.' I finally come to the picture of an elderly, fat lady in a pink dress, singing. I say a word—it changes every time—and she swings her portrait forward to reveal a secret passageway! I walk through and am attacked by you."

With this he gestures toward Ginny.

"Then, as I walk further in the room, I see the other three of you standing around, waiting. Ron, you hand me a rather smooth stick, with a handle on the end, no doubt, and say, 'It's time.' With those words, I wake up and find I am sweating. I have this dream once a month, same exact scenes. It's getting to be a weird movie I can't get rid of."

Ron looked at Hermione, with a weird gleam in his eye, like he knows something great. "It's time," he winked as she digs in her small beaded purse.

"Bloody hell, how big of a purse do you have there?" Harry jokingly asked. "It's like a Mary Poppins bag!"

"Mary Poppins?" asked Ron.

"Don't worry about it," remarked Hermione, who shot him a look. She pulled out a mirror, and spoke into it. "Aberforth, it's time."

* * *

><p><strong>Yay! I finally finished! Well, took a hiatus, then gave you the climax chapter. As a finishing present, I'll tell you what I had in mind for later chapters. Aberforth, who had taken over his brother's job of leading the new Order of the Phoenix, shows up at the Leaky Cauldron and tells Harry all about the Wizarding World. The reason he had to learn was because Voldemort actually was not killed. Neville did not have the full power to kill him for real. Only Harry could do that. So, once Harry learns about spells (which is easy because he should've learned about them all along), he goes and fights alongside Ron, Hermione, Ginny (who he ends up falling in love with of course), Neville, Fred (who is never killed in my stories), George, and Malfoy (who becomes best friends with Harry and Ron since they never had the chance to hate each other in school). <strong>

**Please don't forget to Read and Review! :D :D I love you all! :D :D**


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